Injured
by AA Battery
Summary: Based on BBC version After the mine operation ep. 5, Allan fails to tell Robin something, this something might cost Allan his life. Lots of Allan and also includes Holy Land references, Marian and plenty of angst to go around! Please read and review!
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This is based on the BBC version of Robin Hood- it takes places after episode 5 (i believe that's it- after the one with the mine operation).

Disclaimer: Nope, still not mine.

Other Note: Please read and review!

**Injured**

**Chapter 1**

It was a normal day, a beautiful day, a calm day- Robin's favorite kind of day. There was no current crisis, no specific problems, no pressing dilemmas to interrupt the nothingness of the day. While he supposed too many of these could lead to boredom and obesity, for now it was a well earned break from the stress of being an outlaw. It was a carefree, clear day and, looking around at his band of outlaws, Robin knew it was a well earned day of rest.

Well, not quite _all_ rest- it had been decided that it was time to move camp. It was always safer to not be in the precise same spot for too long. It was their second move since the mine operation, which was about a week and a half ago. However, the pace was not forced, it wasn't even considered purposeful. It was slow, casual and in no particular direction other than the following of the brook (which had so many forks and splinters you could really walk anywhere and still be nearby). Mock fights had ensued, short-lived races to the "next tree" had been run, leaves had been thrown at other's faces, and of course, Much had been made fun of. Even Will had cracked a smile. It was a happy, simple day.

"I just went in for water- honest," Robin tried to explain over Much's retelling of the girl on the way to Locksley.

"Of course you did, Master," Much said dismissively, patting his lord on the arm. "And anyway- there I am trying to distract this man so he wouldn't turn around and see Robin completely-"

There was a kind of moan from behind the walking outlaws and Robin turned just in time to see Allan, who had fallen behind, collapse. While the others were still slightly shocked by the sudden turn of events, Djaq, resident doctor, had already rushed to the unconscious man's side. Robin snapped out of it quickly and began issuing orders,

"Will- find the nearest clearing by the brook. Much- go set up a bed quickly and start boiling some water. John- you're gonna need to carry him," the men were already off to their jobs before Robin stopped speaking. The young leader of the crew knelt by the resident trickster and look up at Djaq. She shook her head.

"I don't know what's wrong," she said. "I'll look him over at camp." She nodded to John and he scooped up the other man as if he were a child. This caused another moan from Allan but John strode off with him quickly. Pausing, Robin grabbed the bag Allan had been carrying and arrived at the quickly made camp to see that Allan had already been laid down. Djaq quickly began to feel the man's forehead and cautiously press his stomach.

"He's got a fever- it's very high," Djaq said, not looking up from the outlaw in front of her. "But his stomach feels fine- I don't know _why_." Much had gone fairly white, as he always did when his worrying erupted into a full fledged panic.

"Surely there must be some clear reason for this!" the former servant exclaimed, stirring the water over the fire rapidly as if that could somehow make it boil faster. "I mean- people don't just drop… like that. There has to be a reason! It doesn't make any sense! Maybe-"

"Much," Robin said firmly, knowing this was the only way to stop his rambling friend. "Let her think!"

"Right," Much said. "Thinking. Always good. Excellent idea." Robin gave Much another glare and the man snapped his mouth shut.

"Well, I don't know why- but we should take off his shirt," Djaq said. "We've got to cool him down. Robin- come help me."

Robin obediently walked over and the two started to struggle Allan out of his shirts. This made the man groan even louder and Robin leaned up to talk to him urgently.

"Allan- it's Robin," he said and was rewarded with Allan's eyes fluttering open for a second. "We're just taking your shirt off- you've got a fever."

"Sorry," Allan mumbled. "Sorry, Robin."

"Relax, Allan- you haven't done anything." Robin said, but the man had already slipped back into unconsciousness. He looked at Djaq helplessly and she merely shrugged. Robin frowned and worked harder at getting all Allan's shirt off. Finally they got to the last layer- a thin white shirt- and Robin gingerly pulled it off and handed it to Will who had been making a neat pile behind them. He moved to put a hand on the man's shoulder when he noticed something.

Blood. There was a trace of it in a line across his palm- he stared, about to say something to Djaq when Will's horrified gasp alerted her first. Robin spun at the same time as Djaq to have his fears confirmed. Will was holding Allan's white shirt- but the back of it wasn't white at all- it was red with blood. What appeared to have started as thin red lines had seeped all over the cloth.

"What- what's that," Much asked, his eyes darting between the shirt and Robin. Robin didn't answer; instead he looked at Djaq's wide eyes. Saying nothing- she nodded. Robin carefully, slowly, almost reluctantly rolled Allan over.

"Bloody-" John's word of utter amazement was one was to describe the sight before them. Robin stared, horrified, as he gazed at his friend's back. It was covered, crossing at all angles, in thick (they looked thicker now that they were on flesh) ugly whip marks. While some were half healed- the others, the deepest were oozing blood and the dried blood that also covered his back proved that they had been doing this for some time.

"He's been horsewhipped," Will breathed, breaking the stunned silence.

"By who?" Much asked. "When!?" Robin's mind was already racing backwards, trying to recall a time when Allan could have been whipped without him knowing. Things had been fairly quiet the last few days. There was no time that he could recall when- Realization hit him like a rock.

"It must've been during the undercover mission," Djaq said, voicing Robin's very thoughts. Hurriedly, he turned to her, needing conformation that his plan hadn't led to this.

"But he was with you the whole time!" he asked. "I mean- you didn't see this happen!"

"No, I didn't," Djaq agreed and for a second Robin felt relief start to wash over him. "But he wasn't with me the whole time- he did get called away once."

Robin didn't answer- no one said anything. Djaq looked at Allan and recounted her story in a flat tone.

"At one point, a guard came down and called Allan to come over- he called him 'Deserter' I remember- that was the excuse Allan gave to being a slave. Of course, Allan had no choice but to go- to not would be to jeopardize the mission- the signal hadn't been given yet for him to fake dying. He was gone for a long time- I remember worrying that somehow he had talked his way out of the mission, that he had betrayed us. But then he was back- pale and looking awful. But I thought he was just playing his part because shortly after the signal was given and he faked his death. It must've happened then."

"You didn't tell us this!" Robin said angrily, finding a release for his anger.

"After John fell and you went to save Marion- I forgot!" Djaq said, finally turning from Allan to glare at Robin. He deflated before her eyes, looking sick and worried again. She added more quietly, "I figured if anything had happened he would've said something."

There was only more silence.

"These are badly infected now," Djaq said. Robin sucked in a breath and Much turned whiter if that was possible. Djaq grabbed a rag and dipped it in the hot water. Gently, she began to rub away the dried blood, not yet touching the actual wounds.

"Why didn't he say something?" Will finally asked. His eyes darted from member to member begging for the answer. Robin could only shake his head.

"I don't know."

End Chapter 1

Author's Note: Thyank you for reading! Please review!!


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Here's the next chapter!

Disclaimer: Own nothing.

Please review!

**Injured**

**Chapter 2**

_Why?_ The question resonated through his skull as Robin sat watching intently as Djaq continued to gently wash around the wounds on Allan's back. He was gently biting his index finger, as he usually did when he had no control over a situation. He _hated_ having no control over a situation, especially when the situation was his fault.

It was his fault. He had planned the whole mission- he had set up the excuse of Allan being a deserter. Sure, Allan had volunteered- but wasn't it Robin's job to keep them all safe? He was failing miserably. As he sat there he thought of all the people in the Holy Land, King Richard being one of them, who said he would make an excellent commander- obviously they were wrong! He rubbed a hand across his face. Roy. Allan. All those now tongue-less people! He was screwing everything up. He glanced around his outlaws. Much was tending the fire on which the water was boiling, white, shaky and muttering to himself in a tone that no one could hear. John was standing, looking everywhere but Allan and suddenly the huge man turned and walked away to somewhere, obviously wanting to be alone. Will had sat on a fallen log and had gone still. His hands were crossed on his lap and he didn't even appear to be blinking, or breathing for the matter. The youngest member was simply watching Djaq work as if in a trance. This was all Robin's fault.

Sighing, he went back to staring at Allan, willing the man to live, as if just by glaring at the awful wounds they would heal themselves. It seemed odd that twilight was now upon them- just moments before it had been a sunny happy day. Robin idly wondered how much time had passed, it was hard to tell. Part of him told himself that he was happily walking through the woods just a minute ago. But the other half had watched Djaq wipe off blood for hours. He was surprised out of his trance when Djaq finally spoke.

"This is not good," the woman spoke and John came crashing back through the woods in an instant.

"Not good!" Much exclaimed, on the verge of panic that Robin had come to recognize. "Well of course it's not bloody-"

"He needs stitches." Djaq cut him off. Will's only movement was to look from Allan to her while she was speaking. Much nodded and started to rummage through his pack.

"Well I've got some thread- use it for mending," Much said. Will had gone pale and Robin felt his heart squeeze a little and the thought of Allan having to get the abundance of cuts across his back all stitched up. He has been wounded before- but most of them didn't require stitches. His had been unconscious for the stitching of the wound on his side, and Marian had only given him a few for his arrow wound. Stitching all that- he closed his eyes- he couldn't even imagine it.

"Your needle won't work," Djaq said, and Much stopped looking abruptly.

"Why not!" Robin demanded.

"They are already infected," Djaq said. "I don't want to use a dirty needle and thread on him- it may make it worse."

"Can't we wash them?" John said, indicating the boiling water.

"The needle, yes. But then we would have to wait for the thread to dry and that will take too long- it might," Djaq stopped, and for the first time looked terrified. "It might be too late then."

"Well then what do we do!?" John asked, shifting from foot to foot.

"I'll go get a clean needle and thread," Robin said, standing up.

"The villagers' will be just as dirty," Will said quietly, speaking for the first time since Djaq had begun cleaning. Robin cringed at the utter hopelessness in the young man's voice. Will was already giving up.

"It won't be a villager's," Robin said, grabbing his bow. It was a testament to how worried Much was that he made no mention of how dangerous Robin's mission was. Instead, the servant stood and started to get his things ready as well.

"Much- stay here," Robin ordered. "They'll need you more than I will." Much shot Robin a worried glanced before sitting back down. Robin strode out of the camp, grabbing Will by the arm and dragging the man with him until they were out of earshot of the other outlaws. The despair was in the man's eyes as well.

"Will," Robin said firmly, forcing the man's eyes to look at him from the spot where they were trained on the ground. "Allan is not dead yet."

"But," Will struggled for a second. "There's just so many." His words brought Robin's mind back to Allan's wounds. He suppressed a shudder and forced himself to sound confident.

"Allan's a fighter," Robin said. "Don't lose faith in him so quickly. We're doing everything we can." Will gave a short, jerky nod.

"Now you get back there and you help keep him alive until I get back," Robin ordered sternly. Will nodded and his eyes met Robin's. Robin was pleased to find a spark of purpose in them. The utter despair was gone- there was hope again, however small. Will hesitated and Robin gave him a push towards the camp.

"Go," he said. "I'll be back quickly." As Robin watched Will's retreating figure, he prayed with all his heart that he had not given the boy false hope for nothing. He spun and faded into the woods.

* * *

Djaq waited for Will to come back and for Robin to be out of earshot. The leader of the group did not need this next part on his shoulders when it was obvious to her he already blamed himself for the whole mess. Djaq knew she blamed herself, just as she knew that both Will, Much, and John were probably managing to make it their own fault. Quick glances at the other men had told her that Will's crossed hands had been clenched so tight he had probably bruised them. The few snaps of Much's mutterings that she had picked up were bits like, "Of course he would have eaten more than that!" John's brief exit from the camp had been followed by distant thumps from his direction. She guessed some trees now bore the scars of his anger. The boys were not going to like this next part- but it had to be done. She took a deep breath and broke the news,

"His wounds need to be cleaned," she said, looking at all three men. They looked back at her, not realizing what she was saying. Much raised his eyebrows questioningly and John gave her a blank look. Even Will seemed confused.

"Isn't that what you've been doing?" John finally said.

"No," Djaq said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "I've been cleaning _around_ the wounds. Now I have to clean them." She watched as realization hit Much- he must've seen this in the war. John and Will were still looking confused.

"It's going to be… painful," Djaq said. Will flinched. "You guys will have to help me."

"Help you…" Will's voice trailed off.

"Look," Djaq said, sick of this dancing around the facts. "Much, get some rags in the boiling water. John, just stay here. Will," She swallowed and hesitated. Maybe this last part wasn't necessary. She glanced back at the wounds- they were deep and very infected. If she was to clean them properly she would have to remove some of the scabs that had half healed themselves. There was fabric dried into them, along with dirt and blood. She closed her eyes. She would need this.

"Yes?" Will asked, staring at her uncertainly.

"Find a stick," she said shortly. "A bit thicker than usual- pull one off a tree- a cleaner one." Once again only Much realized what this meant.

"Do we really need that?" he asked her quietly, after Will had run off.

"Look at them," was her short reply. The man looked and Djaq saw him come to the same conclusion as she had. The man paled and closed his eyes. Djaq was surprised to hear him speak.

"They- they had to do… use that on Master Robin too." Djaq said nothing to that. There was nothing to say. Much opened his eyes and Djaq saw him visibly steel himself. He nodded to her and moved back to get more rags.

Will returned with a long stick of about the perfect thickness.

"Good," she said, breaking it into a small piece.

"What- what exactly is that for?" Will asked, staring at her with wide eyes. She sighed- she would have to explain this to him eventually.

"It's to keep him from biting his tongue," she said. John spun around from where he was looking out into the forest and stared at her with wild eyes.

"It would be worse if we didn't use it," Djaq said. "Now John come over here- you have to hold him down. Will you are probably going to need to help too. Much you hand me the rags when I need them." Everyone moved into position and Djaq started to work at getting the branch into Allan's mouth.

"Wait," Will said suddenly. Djaq looked at him, hoping she didn't have someone who was going to pass out at the sight of blood.

"Shouldn't we explain what's going on to him?" Will asked quietly. Djaq mentally kicked herself. Of course.

"You're right, Will," she said. "Why don't you do that."

Will nodded and hesitantly laid a hand on Allan's shoulder. He shook it gently.

"Allan," Will called and to his surprise the man opened his eyes slowly. "Allan," Will breathed, relief flooding through him. A part of him thought that his best friend had already died.

"Wha-?" Allan croaked.

"Allan- it's me- Will," Will said. "Look, Djaq needs to clean out your wounds- they're pretty bad." To Will's further relief, Allan gave his signature chuckle- it was weak and faded into a groan- but it was there.

"You're telling me," even this short sentence faded into coughing. Djaq handed Will the stick and Will shifted, embarrassed. His hesitation was enough time for Allan to start to pass out again.

"Allan," Will's voice stopped the man and he saw the man struggle to stay awake. "Bite down on this." Will cringed at his coarse instruction- but he didn't know how else to say it. Allan glanced at the stick and then back at Will. There was trust in his eyes as he obediently opened his mouth enough for Will to place the stick in.

"Go back to sleep," Will said and Allan gave the shadow of a nod before complying to this directive as well. Will looked at Djaq, plainly terrified.

"John- get his legs. Will, you sit by his head and get his arms." Will gulped and gingerly placed his hands on his friend's wrist. Djaq glanced at Will.

"Will, if he breaks free he will only hurt himself more," Will wasn't looking at her, his eyes trained on Allan's face. She caught his eyes and forced him to look at her. "I know it feels wrong to hold him down like this- but it's for his own good. Trust me. A few bruises on his wrists will be worth having him alive." Will nodded and pushed down harder.

She nodded to Much and he handed her the first hot rag. She nodded to John and Will.

"You ready?" Both men nodded. Will had grim determination in his eyes and John looked a bit green. She was going to kill the big man if he fainted on her. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come.

She gently placed the rag on one of Allan's wounds. This alone caused the man to moan. Working the cloth a little was enough to wake the man out of his sleep, she saw his frantic eyes try to roll towards her.

"I'll try to be quick," she told him, feeling disgusted. Allan screwed his eyes shut and Djaq almost broke when she saw a single tear run down the man's cheek. She felt like a torturer.

"This has to be done," Much's calm statement surprised her. She would not have expected him to be calm. He looked at her with complete faith in her abilities. "You can do this. You can save his life." Djaq nodded at the words, swallowing and forcing herself to be composed. She placed the rag back on the man's back and started to rub the dirt off.

Though they were muffled because of the branch, Allan's screams filled the entire forest.

End Chapter 2

Please review!


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: And here's chapter 3!

Disclaimer: Same old story- poor fanfic writer owns nothing.

**Injured**

**Chapter 3**

"Put another one on," Djaq muttered to Will through clenched teeth. She was referring to the wet rags from the cool stream that they had been placing on the back of Allan's neck while they worked. She paused from her work of scraping off a half-healed scab so Will could grab a rag and put it down gently. Allan drew a deep shuddering breath as it was placed on the sensitive part of his neck and for a brief moment his eyes relaxed. They hadn't opened since she started, but instead of being shut so tight she suspected he was giving himself a headache, they relaxed to simply being closed. He still didn't open them and she suspected that he didn't want everyone to see the tears pour out of them if he did open them. As it was, water had slowly leaked out and ran along his face, landing on the stick that stuck out of his mouth. A part of Djaq said that the man should just open his eyes and spare himself the headache, but more of her realized this need to hold onto his last bit of pride.

There certainly wasn't much left that he could salvage. The man was panting and sweat was pouring off his body. Usually Djaq would be overjoyed to see sweat as a sign that his fever was breaking- but this wasn't healthy sweat- it was the sweat of pure torture, as if the pain demanded a physical form. To add to the utter embarrassment of it all, he was being firmly held down by his dearest friends. She knew that he would have bruises on his legs and arms from where John, Will and even Much now were holding him down. And of course, all men want to face pain with stolid fierceness, but the screams that Allan had tried to hold in had been ripped from his lungs, a haunting sound of primitive pain that she knew she would never forget.

She had tried to give him a fair amount of breaks from this torture, but in truth no break would be long enough and she knew these needed to be cleaned out. Besides, it would be better when it was all over. She looked down at his back. The ones she had cleaned were bleeding heavily again, but at least they were not the sickly green color the others still were. She guessed she was a little over halfway done. She wiped her hand across her forehead- the fires they had started so that she could see were radiating plenty of heat, or maybe she was just too hot because she was so upset. Either way, she was getting sticky and uncomfortable. But she really didn't spare a thought to it; the man she was working on was experiencing something she hoped never to undergo.

She grabbed a fresh hot rag and nodded to herself. She glanced back at John to make sure the man was still conscious- he had been getting greener throughout this whole process. Will had simply gotten paler and his eyes held a unique begging quality that he did not often show. He closed them and swallowed and she knew that he was praying to his Christian god that this would be over soon. She prayed to Allah the same thing. A glance to her left told her that Much continued to remain calm. He was holding Allan down, since it was decided that Will couldn't easily hold both arms. He was systematically checked the wounds she had done, looking for spots she had missed. She didn't mind his scrutiny; his clear work ethic helped her to remain focused. The ex-servant had truly surprised her during this whole ordeal.

She took a deep breath and nodded to the rest of them. Bringing the rag down again, the process began once more.

* * *

The faint step of someone entering her room through the window was not enough to wake Marian, but the callused hand covering her mouth to keep her from screaming was more than enough. Her eyes flew open, her hand reached for the dagger she kept on her nightstand and she had already started to fight when she relaxed, seeing her "attacker" in the dim candlelight.

There he was. The man she had loved- the man who had left her. The man she still loved. She smiled at him, secretly pleased by this meeting. The smile quickly left her face as she remembered abruptly that he was _not_ supposed to be here- in her bedroom, at night. She should've known something was wrong from the way he quickly released her mouth and gave her no long gaze before stepping away from the bed. She noticed this only subconsciously and it only fueled her anger.

"What are you doing here!?" she demanded in a harsh whisper. Somehow she had perfected yelling at the young man before her while still whispering. "My father could come in any second!"

She expected his usual smug grin, she expected his eyes to light up with laughter at her silly protest for they both knew her father slept like a rock. She expected some witty, Robin-like comment. Her eyes narrowed, even more put out, when he didn't respond at all, instead his back was already turned to her and he appeared to be looking through her drawers. There was something slightly frantic in his movements that caused her to not yell at him again.

"What are you looking for?" she asked instead. It was that moment that he finally turned to look at her and she knew without a doubt that something was horribly wrong. It was in his eyes. They were usually bright even at the darkest hour, they were usually alert, quick, _alive._ They weren't tonight. Instead they seemed darker, as if the blue color had turner into a dark gray completely. They were worried- something rarely seen on Robin Hood. If she didn't know better, she would say that Robin looked terrified. His eyes were glazed over, as if he didn't see her at all and instead saw something ugly, horrible and fascinating that he could not look away from.

"I need a needle and thread," he said and at first she jumped, surprised to hear him speak. His eyes seemed to glide over her as he spoke, focusing on her for a fraction of a second before returning to gaze at something unseen outside her window. There was no banter in his voice and she got up immediately and reached for her embroidery kit.

"What is it?" she asked as she walked over to where she kept it. She was smart enough to know that needle and thread meant someone needed stitches. "What's wrong? Who's hurt?"

"It's Allan," Robin answered her, his voice harsh and distant. "He's injured- infected. Djaq said we needed a clean needle but the thread would take too long to dry so I came here."

Marian paused in reaching for her kit and turned to stare at Robin's back. She couldn't remember the last time Robin had been so scattered. He seemed to realize it as well.

"I'm sorry," he said, turning to face her. "There's just so many." She waited for him to continue- he didn't.

"So many what?" she asked quietly. He spun around abruptly to face the window again, avoiding her gaze. He said nothing for a long time while she opened her kit to make sure it had everything you would need for stitches. Finally in a quiet voice, he spoke.

"He was whipped," it was a quiet admission. For an instant Marian had the insane idea that Robin had gotten angry at the man and ordered it himself. She mentally shook herself, of course not. That was something Guy would do, not Robin. It took her a moment to realize that Robin had continued to speak.

"- during the mine operation," he was saying. "I should have thought that perhaps they would beat him- he was disguised as a slave but it didn't even occur to me."

"I'm sorry," she said, handing him the small box that contained her needle and thread. She saw him give the smallest jump and she knew that he had been talking more to himself than to her. Nonetheless, he recovered quickly and nodded to her as if he really had been talking to her.

"Thanks," he said and turned to go. She made her next decision without much thought.

"Wait," she said, reaching into her closet. She grabbed a pair of pants and a thicker shirt that she usually reserved for the Night Watchman. "I'm coming with you."

"No," he said and for the first time that night, his eyes truly focused on her. "Your father might notice and we can't run around the forest if Guy sends men right now."

"My father just went to bed- I'll come back well before he even wakes up. Besides, Kerry my serving woman knows enough about the Night Watchman to keep him away if I'm not here." She quickly changed and it was a true sign of how worried Robin was that he looked away immediately and didn't argue with her any further.

It was as they silently climbed out her window that Marian realized something. She didn't know which one _was_ Allan. She frowned, trying to picture their faces in her head. She knew Much, obviously, and she knew Djaq was the girl. Roy was the blonde one who had died. After that they all seemed to blur together. She had seen them many times, usually fighting alongside Robin or bursting Robin out of jail or doing other such heroics with Robin as their leader. But the truth is she had never spoken to them, she had never truly cared to get to know them. She was ashamed as she realized she never thought they really mattered.

To her, they were silly men who got hooked up in Robin's fantasies. They were the people who always kept Robin from returning to her. They were simply Robin's faceless men who managed to get him out of trouble. She had never really thought of them as people before.

She glanced at Robin as they entered Sherwood, his face dark and worried. Now that she thought about it, she realized why she was so surprised at Robin's mood. He always had that grinning attitude. She realized suddenly that these men he stayed with in the woods were not simply peasants he used to get back at the sheriff- they were his _friends_. She stared at the man she secretly loved as if she had never seen him before. He was deeper and more mature than his coy smirk suggested. The thought hit her like an arrow that maybe she didn't know the real Robin Hood at all.

She had seen this serious side, but so infrequently and rarely that she usually convinced herself it didn't exist. She had glimpsed it when she saw his scar and he flatly spoke of the Holy War. But soon he was grinning and flirting with her and she forgot all about it. She had wanted to see it when she had asked if anything hurt him. She got an answer, but an idealistic one that had sounded more like a lofty speech. While she didn't doubt his sentiments, it was to her such a childish want of needing to be loved that she had passed it over. Even when Roy had died, he had met her at the cart the next day, appearing happy and relaxed. That had only enforced her idea that he thought no more of his outlaws than she did.

Now she knew that his relationship with them was not as simple as she had thought it to be. She realized the true answer to her earlier question- Robin was hurt when his friends died. Like some rich, spoiled lady she had thought that Robin's men were a bare step higher than servants he kept. What an idiot she was! She looked away from Robin and out into the woods, disgusted with herself.

* * *

"We're done," Djaq grinned, relief flooding her as she removed the warm, bloody cloth from Allan's back. At first there was no reaction from the men surrounding her. Will didn't even look up- he was still staring at Allan's back. Much's eyes didn't move from the whip wound she had just finished and John's eyes were tightly shut behind her.

"We're done," she said louder and this had the effect she had first expected. John rolled off Allan's legs so quickly she didn't quite catch the movement at all. He rushed into the woods where she suspected he had gone to throw up. Much simply leaned back, let go of Allan's arm and sighed a relieved,

"Thank God." Will continued to stare at Allan, still not moving. Gently, she laid a hand on his shoulder and he jumped, his head jerking up to stare at her.

"Will, it's done," she said, smiling at him. The confusion stayed on his face for a second before finally his face broke into a relieved half-smile. He swallowed and she saw him struggle to maintain control as the whole awful ordeal came rushing back to him.

"It's done," he repeated to himself. He abruptly let go of Allan's arm. This caused Allan to stir a little as if he sensed he would finally be able to move his limbs.

Djaq reached over and gently removed the stick from Allan's mouth. The man coughed and opened his eyes slowly began to open. She indicated for Will to hand her a wet rag from the stream. She gently wiped the man's face clean of the saliva, tears, and sweat that covered it, blocking Will's view, knowing that Allan would never want Will to see him like this. When she was finished he opened his eyes for the first time.

"It's done?" he asked, his voice raspy and hoarse from all the screaming.

"They're all cleaned," she said. "We'll stitch them up when Robin gets here with the thread." She saw him pale as his breath hitched. She gripped his shoulder gently.

"Don't worry," she said. "That won't be anything like… it won't be as bad." He looked away from her and she knew a part of him hated her for doing this to him. That was fine- she hated herself for doing this to him. She didn't get offended when his eyes searched for someone else to look at.

"Will?" he called hoarsely. She moved away from him and allowed Will to move into his field of vision. She handed Will a cup of water wordlessly and Will nodded to her.

"I'm right here," Will answered Allan and Djaq saw the man relax as his eyes locked with Will. "Wanna a drink of water?" Will's tone was forced lightness and from the way Allan stared at Will, Djaq knew that Allan knew it was fake as well. Nonetheless, Allan slowly nodded. Will clearly idea had no idea what to do- he simply pressed the cup to Allan's lips and slowly tilted it. The end result was half of the water spilling all over, and the other half choking Allan. When the man had finally caught his breath, he playfully glared at his best friend.

"You are…" he stopped to cough once more. "awful at that." Will flushed, looking embarrassed, but Djaq grinned at Allan's ability to make jokes even at this time.

"Really," the man continued as Will tried half-hearted to protest. "I'm not bein' funny or anythin'-" Allan's voice was slowing and Djaq knew he was fighting off sleep. "you are really, really," Allan's gasped moan caused the grin that had been playing on Will's lips to disappear. "…really bad." Allan had passed out before he finished his last word and suddenly Djaq was as worried as before. The pure relief she had had as she finished cleaning the wounds disappeared. While the man was speaking he seemed better, but now as she stared at his pale, thin body, she remembered how much blood he had lost. She bit her lip, praying once more.

She looked up to see Will's terrified face and quickly looked away, knowing that she could not give the assurances that Will's eyes begged her to give. The truth was she didn't know if Allan would live. She didn't know if all their work would be for nothing. She didn't know anything at all.

End Chapter 3

Author's Note: Thank you for reading, the next one will hopefully be up soon- leave a review- I'm in love with them!


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Still don't own anything:)

Author's Note: I would just like to thank everyone who has reviewed so far! (And of course beg you to review this chapter as well)!

inflatabletigers- never fear- all will be explained!

Injured

Chapter 4

Will wished, not for the first time, that his friend was made of wood. If Allan was wood, then Will could _fix _him, instead of doing the useless nothing he was doing now. He was sitting, staring at Allan who had fallen asleep practically mid-sentence and not stirred since. The man, who was sometimes teased for being so short, looked tiny now. Will thoughts strayed to his mother. She had seemed smaller when she had died too. She hadn't told anyone she was starving to death either. Why did everyone Will cared about feel the need to not tell him when they were dying?! Will glared at Allan, angry with the man more than ever. If Allan died, Will was never forgiving him.

_If Allan died._ The thought struck the youngest member of the gang like a blow. His angry glare turned into a pleading one instantly. God, Allan couldn't die, not after they had done so much to keep him alive. Will glanced at his hands- they were sore from holding down his friend. At once he heard Allan's screams in his mind, felt the way the man fought to wrench free of their tight grasps and relived his own horror as Djaq scrapped away infection and scabs. He closed his eyes, not wanting to remember any of it but knowing he would never forget. When he took a breath and opened them, he was staring at the one thing he never wanted to see in his life.

It was the stick that he had forced his friend to bite down on. It was laying there- the one that he had picked out- flickering in the firelight. He hated it- hated what it had done, hated what it stood for, hated every bit of bark on it. Moving without thought, he scooped it up with one hand and started into the woods. He ignored Djaq's shocked looked as she looked up from where she was gently bandaged Allan's back until Robin got there. He swept past John's questioning gaze and Much's level glance, as if the servant had expected Will to break like this at some point.

Once alone in the darkness, Will took a breath, convincing himself he was fully in control. He couldn't lose that- Luke was the one who lost it. Luke was the one who had thrown things when their mother had died. Luke had punched things and Luke was the one who had finally stopped and sobbed into their father's arms. Will maintained control. He was the one who gently pulled his father away and placed the cloth over her face, shutting her eyes before he did so. Will was the one who dug the hole in the woods. Will was the one when, as his father and brother were crying, silently straightened up the house after Luke's rampage. Will was the one who kept things running. He went to work the next day, he had continued to work to feed the rest of them until 2 weeks later when his father returned. He didn't cry, he didn't punch anything. He was always in control.

Suddenly, for the first time since his mother died, Will felt hot tears prick the back of his eyelids as he stood there, clenching the stupid stick in his hand. He suddenly hated his father for relying on his son to keep it together. He hated Djaq for forcing him to hold down his best friend. He hated John for getting to go throw up in the forest. He hated Luke for destroying their tiny house and making him clean up. He hated Allan for putting him through this. He hated himself for thinking all these things.

But most of all, he hated the stick he held in his hand. He opened his hand to look at it. There were bite marks on it where Allan had bitten down from the pain. He hated that there was still dirt on it, though he had tried to wipe in clean before putting it in Allan's mouth. He hated the fact that it was rough and had probably hurt Allan's mouth. He hated every nook and cranny of this stick. His hands re-clenched around it and his squeezed it, wanting to feel it break in his hands, wanting to kill it. It didn't break- it was too short and thick. He hated it for mocking him like that.

With a strangled yell he threw it into the forest, panting heavily. He heard it hit a tree and bounce off. The stupid thing was probably fine. With a crashing force, he felt the overwhelming desire to go after it. He wanted to find the thing again in the darkness and bash it against all the trees in the forest. He wanted to destroy the tree it fell from. He wanted to destroy the whole forest that tree lived in. He wanted to scream, he wanted to punch something, he wanted to go back and shake Allan and demand the man wake up. He wanted his mom to be alive. He wanted the sheriff to be dead. He wanted to yell so loud that God heard him. He wanted to sit down and sob. He wanted to simply cry until he felt better. He wanted to loose control.

Instead, he took a deep breath to control his breathing. He closed his eyes to force the tears that had never fallen back into his skull. He unclenched his fists and relaxed his shoulders. He forced his face to relax. He forced himself to think that Allan would live. He opened his eyes and turned away from the darkness and back toward the light of the camp.

His fists never punched anything. The tears never fell. His mouth never screamed. The emotions were still there, tightly bottled in the back of his mind. They hadn't gotten out. He hadn't lost control.

* * *

Robin wasn't aware that he had been lengthening his strides as they got nearer to the camp until he saw Marian jog a few strides to keep up with him. He slowed down briefly, before nerves made him pick up the pace once more. He couldn't stop thinking about what he would find at the camp.

Would Allan already be dead? Would they have already covered his body? Would they already be digging the hole? He had died right after Robin left? Had Robin taken too long? Would he have died-

He forced his thoughts away from his questions. Allan would be alive when he got there. The man had to be because Robin had the thread. Allan would be alive because he had to be stitched up and Robin had the thread. He couldn't simply die without stitches. And once the stitches went in, he wouldn't die. Because the stitches would fix him. And Robin had the thread.

Robin was practically jogging by the time he entered the camp. His eyes immediately searching out Allan and he almost grinned in relief as he watched the man's chest rise up and down slowly with each breath he took. He was alive. Djaq was smiling at him, a tired smile, but already beckoning for the thread. He passed it to her, while looking for John and Will. After checking that they were both fine, he returned his attention to Allan's back. Now that he was closer, a gasp escaped his mouth.

"He's bleeding even more now!" he said, despair leaking into his voice.

"That's because we cleaned his wounds," Djaq said, giving his arm an assuring pat. He knew she was trying to sound logical and calm, but the worry worked its way into her voice nonetheless. He nodded at her instead of questioning her- she didn't need anymore pressure from him. Instead, he shot a glance at Much. The servant shook his head, a clear signal to Robin to ask no further questions on the matter. Robin knew when to take advice and instead took a deep breath. It was time for him to be the leader, time to uplift his troops.

"Well I'm sure he'll be a lot better without all the infection," it was an odd tone that Robin used- one that took him a while to master. It was optimistic without being fake, confident while still concerned and strong while leading no one into false bravo. Robin had learned it from King Richard. It was amazing how well it worked. Djaq suddenly stood straighter as if proud of her work thus far, John lifted his eyes from where they were staring glumly at the floor and Will nodded to himself.

"Here's the thread and needle," Robin continued, drawing attention to the box that Djaq now held. "Djaq, what else do you need?"

"Um-" the woman seemed slightly shell-shocked at Robin's confidence and directness.

"Should we both stitch him at the same time?" a voice said from behind Robin. "That way the bleeding will stop faster." Robin whirled around, ashamed at himself. He had completely forgotten about Marian.

"Uh- yes," Djaq said, just as surprised by the noblewoman as Robin. She took a deep breath and Robin saw her confidence return. Djaq was in charge of this situation. "Yes- that would be excellent." Robin smiled at her.

"Do you need anything else?" he asked. She shook her head.

"No- this won't be like-" she stopped abruptly as though she had not meant to say that. "No, that should be fine. Except Will- maybe you want to talk to him while we do this." Robin wasn't offended by her choice of Will. He knew Will was closest to Allan. Besides, the spark of purpose in Will's eyes was stronger than when the leader had left.

"Robin, you help Much get rags ready if we need them," Djaq continued, in full swing now. "John- don't be offended- but why don't you just stay there. I don't want you passing out while we do this." Djaq's soft smile stopped the big man from taking any offense and he sat back down gratefully. Robin moved to sit behind Much, knowing very well that Much could do this by himself and that Djaq was just giving him something to do.

That's when he caught sight of them- tons of them, it seemed like a whole mountain of them- bloody rags. Torn strips of cloth that were simply soaked in blood- he stared, transfixed by them. He vaguely remembered seeing a pile like that before next to his bed. It had been in the Holy Land- when they were too afraid to move them. The memory came back like a wave, as these memories sometimes did. Little things like this would set him back to a part of his life that he usually couldn't recall. He remembered, suddenly, Much wiping a bloody hand across his forehead, thus streaking it with blood. He remembered the feel of someone threading string into his flesh. He remembered feeling confused and weak. He remembered staring at a huge pile of blood just as he was now.

"Master?" Much's quiet nudge brought him back to reality. He jumped as suddenly he wasn't at the war anymore, he was sitting next to a fading fire. He felt his side- it was healed. This blood was not his- it was Allan's. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, Much- I'm fine," he said, giving his friend a half-hearted smile. It didn't fool Much, but the other man simply nodded and looked away. Robin shook himself and set about to putting more wood on the fire.

He looked over to see that Marian and Djaq were wiping the needles down and carefully pulling the thread through the small hole at the end. His eyes traveled to Allan. The man seemed even worse than he had 2 minutes ago. He was pale and shaky. Robin took a breath. He had to be strong for the others. He couldn't panic. He wouldn't admit, even to himself that stitching all those whip wounds seemed impossible. He wouldn't admit that he was terrified. He wouldn't admit that Allan looked so much like those hurt soldiers he had seen in the Holy Land- the ones that died shortly after looking like that.

He couldn't admit those things. Allan didn't look like a soldier on his deathbed. Allan was stronger than that. Allan would live. Robin closed his eyes- he wished he actually believed those words. He sighed and prayed with his whole being that Allan would survive.

* * *

Djaq nodded at Will and Marian and gently threaded the needle through Allan's body for the first time. She halted, expecting the man to wake up or move or moan or something. Will shook his head, indicating the man showed no signs of waking. Feeling confused, Djaq pulled through another stitch. There was still no movement from the sleeping man.

She nodded at Marian, who was staring at the wounds for the first time up close. The woman's face was pale and disbelieving. Djaq understood that- it was an incredibly horrible sight. However, Marian quickly recovered and began to stitch slowly. Djaq watched for any sign of movement from Allan once more. There was none.

She began to stitch in earnest now, moving quickly and trying to pretend it was simply cloth she was mending and not human flesh. The deafening silence was overwhelming. Suddenly, she longed for Allan to groan, to give some indication he was still alive. She never thought she would miss those heart-breaking screams, but now as she placed stitch after stitch with no movement, her worry increased that maybe they were too late for Allan- maybe he wouldn't ever wake from this sleep.

Will reached out and gave his friend a nudge.

"Allan?" the dark-haired man asked, his tone almost frantic. Djaq couldn't find it in her heart to tell Will to let Allan sleep. This sleep seemed unnatural and wrong and she wanted him out of it as much as Will. However, Will's call caused no stirring from Allan, his eyelids didn't flutter open as they had before. Only the slow rhythm of his breathing proved that Allan was still alive. Will sat back, his intense eyes never moving from Allan's face and Djaq knew he would stay like that until Allan moved something.

But he didn't. As Djaq and Marian painstaking stitched through the night, Allan a' Dale never moved a muscle.

End Chapter 4.

* * *

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Please review:) 


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: looooong sigh

Author's Note: Here's the next chapter! Thank you for all the reviews- a bit of bad news- we are officially caught up with where i post this on a RH forum- so that means the updates will be a tad slower- but they will still be at least once a week (Saturday is my writing day) and sometimes more- anyway thank you for still reading and here's Chapter 5!

**Injured**

**Chapter 5**

Much dimly wondered if he should start making dinner now. Obviously he hadn't had time before and now it was well into the night- but it was his job to make sure everyone ate at least two meals day. He cast an appraising eye over the other outlaws- John looked healthy enough and Djaq looked fine, but if Will or Robin didn't keep eating they were simply going to disappear! Unfortunately, Will always ate little as if he had gotten used to it during the time his family was starving, and whenever Robin worried the first thing to go was his appetite. He finally turned his thoughts to Allan, who usually ate every meal like it would be his last while managing to never gain weight. He had lost weight dramatically now. Much longed to go stuff some food into that haggard figure. In his head, he was sure that if he could get Allan to eat the man would be healthy again in no time.

He mentally punched himself over Allan's eating habits for probably the 100th time that night. Of course something was wrong with Allan- Much had noticed it as early as the day after the mine operation. Allan had been eating next to nothing for over a week and Much hadn't said anything. At first, he had figured it was a result of the stomach problems he had after swallowing that plant. Then he had completely forgotten about it, just becoming used to serving the man less than normal and seeing him give the part he failed to finish to John or Will.

There had been other signs too, now that Much thought about it. There was the change in sleeping position, from propped up on a tree to lying on his stomach. The bag that he usually carried swung over his shoulder was suddenly carried by his side. The man had been avoiding patting people on the back as if he didn't want the usual pat in return. And there was the simple fact that Allan hadn't taken his shirt off in almost 2 weeks. Allan was one of those people who took off their shirt at the first sign of heat- why hadn't Much noticed that he hadn't taken it off?

Much sighed, he felt like such an idiot. And he felt even worse because he knew that if Robin had shown those signs, Much would've picked up on it instantly. Much had spent so many years of his life watching out for his master, it was like second nature, it was natural. Robin wasn't just his master, he was the first person who had treated Much decently in his whole life, Robin was his savior. He devoted his entire being to keep Robin alive, healthy and comfortable. It had started out as his job, something he desperately needed not to lose, but now it was just who he was. He was Robin's man. And even after Robin had unofficially set him free and promised him a lodge- he knew that would never change. He would still do anything and everything Robin asked, not because he felt he had to- but because he loved Robin more than he loved himself.

That's why, when Robin had become the leader of this little band, Much had gradually began to watch over them too. At first it was because loosing them would hurt Robin, but now Much realized that they had become his friends as well. And that's what Much did for his friends- he watched over them.

But he had failed miserably with Allan. The man had been whipped horribly, walking around like that for almost two weeks and Much hadn't even noticed. Maybe Much hadn't even tried to see the problem. Much admitted that he hadn't warmed up to Allan as quickly as he did to Will. Will seemed to really respect Robin and that made it easy for Much to accept Will. But Allan was loud, disrespectful, mocking and apparently uncaring about their mission or Robin or anything. And it didn't help that the other man was constantly making fun of Much.

But Much had gradually come to not only accept Allan, but to befriend the man and realize Allan's importance to the group. It was in the little things that Allan did that stopped him from being someone Much couldn't stand. It was the way that Allan would sometimes fight on Much's side or tell John to knock it off and let Much cook the rabbit. It was the way Allan would sometimes make a dramatic scene about helping Much clean the dishes. Though the man groaned and complained quite loudly, in the end Allan shooed Much away from the brook and did them all himself. It was the way Much had seen Allan let Will win at cards and then endure the younger man's gloating with an easy smile the rest of the night. It was the way he glared at Much when the servant had started to say that Will hadn't really won. It was the way the man would rush headlong into the fight, apparently without fear. It was the way Allan's eyes would twinkle when he found something especially funny. It was things like that that made Allan a genuinely good person.

And now that good person was laying there, stone still, pale and thin. Much tried to shake the layer of guilt out of his brain- he had to remain calm and get Allan alive through this- just as he had gotten Robin through his wound. He shuddering and looked away from Allan. He didn't want to remember how Robin had once looked so much like that. Granted, Robin was in a tent fit for royalty, resting upon layers of blankets, surrounded by the best doctors King Richard could offer and Allan was in the forest, laying on the thin blankets Much had time to put down, surrounded by a bunch of outlaws- but despite all this, Allan and Robin looked the same, as probably all men who have such injuries do. Even though Allan was stitched and Djaq had thrown a light blanket it over his back, a complete stranger could walk into the camp and never mistake the man for simply sleeping.

Everything about Allan right now, and Robin back then, seemed unnatural. His breathing was just a tad too shallow to be normal, his posture was too rigid, his face was too tense and his absolute stillness was abnormal. Much could almost feel the heat radiating from the man, whose temperature had not dropped despite their best efforts. Much struggled to keep the panic that had been building since Allan collapsed under control. They couldn't lose Allan- they just couldn't.

They wouldn't, He told himself firmly. It was his job to make sure everyone else was okay. He pulled out his second cooking pot, intent on making at least some soup. He paused for a moment and looked up. Will was sitting watching Allan, his eyes tense and tired. John had laid down, but was staring up at the sky. Marian was watching Robin, who was looking more and more angry by the second. Djaq had fallen asleep where she was sitting, no doubt exhausted from all she had to do that day. Much silently put the pot away. No one would eat even if he did make something.

* * *

Robin's fear had melted into anger at some point during the night that he couldn't remember. He steamed in it, letting himself be lost to it because anger was much better than feeling as lost and terrified as he had before. At first he was angry at himself- how _could_ he let this happen! Why didn't he notice anything? Why didn't he think to check? He had _known_ that swallowing the stupid plant shouldn't have made Allan quite that weak. But instead, he had written it off to Allan having a weak stomach or Allan simply wanting Will to carry all his bags the next day. Allan had grinned, protesting that he was still too sick to carry his stuff and Will had easily given in and carried them. Why didn't Robin make the connection that usually Allan was careful to carry his own things and that this was not right? How could he have been so blind and dumb?

This anger at himself sharply turned to anger at Allan. How could Allan have been so dumb as to not tell anyone that he was whipped? What was the idiotic man thinking? Had he just purposely decided that he was too tough to tell anyone- that no one would ever find out? What a stupid, stupid idea! And now look what he had done- Djaq had fallen into an exhausted sleep; John, now sleeping, was still slightly green; Much was shifting restlessly and with the nervous movement of panic not being allowed to escape and Will looked so lost and scared that Robin could hardly stand it. And this was all Allan's fault.

A part of Robin knew that this was ridiculous, that he was just thinking these things to keep his mind from thinking of what would happen if Allan died- but he continued to fuel the fire of his rage. But as he ran out of things to be mad about, they became weaker and weaker arguments. Still he hooked onto all of them and thought them furiously at the injured man.

How dare he!? Robin was the leader of this group and he certainly hadn't given permission for Allan to get injured. And he had clearly stated that injuries should always be reported- at the moment he couldn't recall when he had said that- but he was certain he had! Allan had deliberately disobeyed him- he ought to kick the man out of the group for the trouble he was causing! And if Allan died on him before he could properly yell at him he was going to be even more angry with the stupid, stupid man. And now he had the audacity to just be asleep- not bother waking up and at least drinking some water. God, the man was impossible!

As he ran out of things to be mad about, he calmly started the list over. Though the list was calm and even structured, Robin felt the panic and terror rising up in his chest- he quickly channeled his fear into the anger that was keeping him from breaking down. He was angry at himself, at the situation and most of all at the stupid man who was currently dying. When Allan woke up- Robin was going to kill him.

* * *

Marian sat against the huge tree, blinking in amazement and out of pure exhaustion. Will had given her his blanket silently, never quite looking away from Allan but as if manners were drilled so firmly into his head that even during this time he remembered that ladies got the blankets. She clutched it now- feeling as if her brain was going to explode.

Her time at the outlaws' camp had been such a roller coaster of events and emotions that Marian knew she would never be the same. To begin, there was Allan. She recognized him in the vague way she recognized all of Robin's men. But she was not prepared for the condition he was in. Robin's worry had told her that something was terribly wrong, and his short statement of how many lashes there were had made her think she was ready to see the man. She thought there would be no surprises- she thought she knew what she was going to encounter.

But nothing, no words or mental image or anything, could have prepared her for what she saw as she entered the camp and first laid eyes on Allan a Dale. He was thin- so skinny she thought he had starved for years instead of what she gathered to be less than 2 weeks. His skin had seemed to simply drain of all color, which only served to accent the fact that you could count his ribs and his spine. Of course, you could only see his bones if you managed not to focus on the blood. Blood was everywhere, it was seeping out of his wounds, it was covering the blankets he laid on, it had stained the edge of his pants as it trickled down his back. It was on the pile of rags next to the fire, it was faintly still on Djaq's hands, though it was obvious she had tried to clean them. There was a trace of it across Much's forehead and a smear of it on the back of Will's neck. She could almost see the anxious movements that had caused them.

As they had stitched him up, she had gently washed away the dried blood on his back and she was pleased to see that as of yet, no blood had found its way onto the light blanket Djaq had draped over the man. So far the stitches were holding. She silently prayed that Allan would wake up, not just for his sake, but for the sake of the outlaws.

It had been an amazing experience, watching them interact. It had truly shattered all her previous misconceptions about them. They weren't just standard non-feeling men that Robin had banded together in some strange alliance, they were real people. She suddenly understood why Robin found it unacceptable to allow the four men be hanged shortly after his arrival. Robin befriended his people- he knew them on a personal level that she lacked, even with her guise as the Night Watchman. She thought in terms of the big picture- helping as many people as possible and accepting a few casualties for the more important good. She knew then that she couldn't blame Robin for his actions. She realized that Robin was incapable of thinking like she did. While of course Robin tried to work for the common good, to him his individual men were just as important, if not more so, than the big picture that she clung to.

She had always blamed him for this, adding it to the list of his idealistic views. But seeing them all together, she knew that while she still thought first of the big picture- she no longer faulted Robin for his view. She found herself connecting with them, even though she knew that most of them weren't even thinking of her. John had glared at her long enough to decide he was too sick and tired to fight her presence. Djaq was too tired to give her much thought, aside from the quiet thanks as they finished stitching. Will hadn't spared her a glance, his gaze intent upon his friend. Much hadn't been surprised to see her, but had carefully avoided her gaze and she thought perhaps he thought she was mad about the incident at her house when Robin was going to be hanged. She turned to Robin. The man was glaring at Allan, his jaw clenched, his whole body rigid- not even he was sparing her a thought.

For a second she was angry with him for not even _looking_ at her. Then she felt awful for thinking it. His friend could be _dying_ and she was jealous because he wasn't thinking about her. It's not like she wanted him to think about her anyway- he had left her and she didn't need him. Still, she looked at him, worried and restless.

Her pride had also taken a beating tonight. She had always felt she was in the right about the Night Watchman- she always felt that she did more than Robin did for the poor of England. She had almost resented the fact that he came back and suddenly he was the people's favorite. She had helped them for years and he comes back and saves four of them and he's the hero. He was a legend, the noble who now lived in the woods, fighting the evil sheriff and feeding the poor. Now, as she looked about the small camp, she realized what Robin had truly given up.

Robin was a noble, there was no doubt about that. His family had been nobles for generations- only slightly shorter than hers had been, though she could not say by how much. He was used to living in luxury, with a roof, a bed, servants, food. He had been invited to fight in the King's personal guard during the war, rumor had told her that much. Rumor had also informed her that he was a personal favorite of the king, he probably lived a practically royal life, even if he was in the Holy Land. But the camp he now lived in was anything but fancy- in fact it was only a few steps higher than the poor people who lived outside of Nottingham's walls.

Every man slept on the ground on one or two blankets, wearing all his clothes to keep out the night chill and putting any extra blankets over himself. Djaq had a small pillow that Marian suspected one of the boys insisted she take. As for them, their pillows were their small bags that held their meager possessions. Their only warmth was the small fire that was gradually fading and there was no protection from the rain that usually fell. She suddenly noticed how worn Robin's clothes had become, and his were in better condition than the others. While she wouldn't classify them as rags, it was clear to all observing the men that they had fallen upon rough times. Much's cooking supplies were simple and few, and she saw no trace of spices that would liven up a meal.

As she felt the rough bark of the tree against her back, she realized how used to living in nobility she was. She couldn't imagine being soaked in the rain or waking up from cold in the night. Meals were a regular, expected thing. She understood then why Robin was so loved- while she empathized with the poor people, Robin _became_ one of them. She realized then that Robin's lifestyle choice wasn't the fun idealistic adventure she had accused it of being. These weren't boys romping in the woods for the fun of it- these were outlaws, hunted men with no home or shelter to go to. And Robin had chosen this life because he thought he could do the most good here. She had no right to tell him he was wrong.

The thought struck her that many he was doing more than he seemed. She remembered hearing Guy complaining about how "Robin stole this," or "Robin stole that," but she had never grasped what Robin did with the money. It obviously wasn't going to his men- it was going to the people. Robin was helping in the way he knew how- and it was working.

She continued to stare into the fire, awake and thoughtful. She noticed in an offhand way that only Robin and she were still awake. Much had fallen asleep with a stick in his hand as if he had gone to put more wood on the fire and simply collapsed. Will's face was strained and serious as if he was fighting the sleep even as he succumbed to it. She suddenly was very tired and very aware that she had to get home to her bed before her father woke up. She decided to tell Robin she had to go.

The man moved suddenly and quickly before she had the chance. She didn't move, knowing somehow he thought she had also fallen asleep. Instead, she watched in fascination as Robin leaned over Allan, his voice low, angry and deep.

"Allan," Robin whispered urgently, rage barely controlled. "Allan this is Robin- now look here- I don't give you permission to die. You are a member of this group and I am the leader of this group. So live!" Robin's voice was getting louder, the anger building. "That is an order! I am from a noble family who has been for more generations that you can even count and you are some stupid peasant who went and got himself almost killed- but I am ordering you to live. You hear me!" Robin was shouting now and Marian looked around to see if anyone would wake up and stop the man if he decided to kill Allan.

"Allan! Damn you!" Robin shook the man frantically, and Marian was about to step in when Robin spoke again. "Allan." The change in the man was gutting. The anger had faded from the his voice and Marian heard the terror that it had carefully hidden. Robin's voice was quiet, pleading and utterly lost.

"You gotta live," Robin's voice was shaking as if he were on the verge of tears and Marian saw his head bow as if he strength had left along with his anger. Robin gave Allan another shake, but it was the pitiful movement of a child who doesn't understand that something is not going to wake. Marian felt tears well in her eyes as the scene played before her.

"Please, Allan," Robin whispered, hopeless and terrified. "Please." Robin suddenly stood and swept into the forest. Marian didn't even bother to check to see if anyone else had woken before silently following him.

End Chapter 5

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Author's Note: evil chackle I do so love cliffhangers! MWHAHAHA

Erhm- ok then- Please REVIEW:)


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I tried to but it- but they haven't contacted me back yet on my $5.67 (AKA all my money) bid...

Author's Note: Thanks as always for the reviews! And remember to click that little button after you finish reading:)

**Injured**

**Chapter 6**

Luckily, Robin didn't travel far so Marian managed to find him without running headlong into a tree. From what she had seen, these men had the uncanny ability to move through the forest in the pitch black without even making much noise. She supposed it was one of those things you acquired when living in the woods for an extended period of time. However, this quick thought flitted across her mind for the briefest instant before they returned to the man now sitting a few yards away from her.

Something stopped her from running up to him, something caused her instead to stand a distance away and silently catch her breath before looking towards the man she thought she knew so well.

He was shaking. He wasn't crying, his eyes weren't even wet- but the man's whole body was vibrating as if the stress of the whole situation simply demanded an outlet. He was shuddering as he planted his back against the nearest tree and slid down it. He ran a trembling hand through his hair, eyes firmly closed and obviously trying to calm down. His breath was coming in short shallow gasps that mirrored the quivers that ran through his body.

Marian stared, horrified. Though he took a deep breath, Robin was still violently shaking and his breathing returned quickly to its short, quick pattern. She saw him clench a fist as he tried to stop at least his hand from the unwanted motion. It only served to make his arm vibrate harder and he quickly released it. He continued to try and take long breathes and she continued to watch, unmoving and terrified.

She had never seen Robin like this. She had seen him sad when his father passed away, she had seen him angry at the sheriff, she had seen him thoughtful, she had even seen those rare moments when he seemed too mature for his age. But she had never seen him like this- she had never seen him broken. As he opened his eyes and looked toward the sky, she saw a pleading in them that looked foreign on his usually calm face. She didn't know what to do, she didn't know how to act, she couldn't remember how to think- she simply stood there, staring and silently crying without noticing it.

This was not the Robin she knew. This was not the grinning, happy, innocent boy who she had fallen in love with. This was not the Robin that had left for the war. This was someone else- this was a man who was scarred. This was a man who cleverly the horrors he had seen behind that same grinning smile that was once genuine. This was a man who was about to break. This was a man she didn't know.

She knew then that Robin would never want her to see him like this. She knew she couldn't go talk to him. She knew with a sudden horrifying clarity that to go to him now would be to forever change their relationship into something completely different. If she went to him, she would break his pride with the first word she said: he would never feel comfortable around her again. Their new relationship was too young, too innocent to survive this dark secret of Robin. Maybe in years they could discuss it, but right now, though she loved him more than ever- their bond wasn't strong enough to make it through this.

This realization only caused her tears to fall harder. It killed her that as much as she loved him, as much as she thought he loved her, she couldn't comfort him. It killed her that he wouldn't want to share this with her. It killed her that she couldn't do what she would have 5 years ago. It killed her that they had grown so far apart. It killed her that she no longer knew Robin.

Suddenly a figure emerged in the small clearing that Robin sat. It took Marian only a moment to recognize Much. She expected the man to panic. She expected him to rush over to his master, to cry out, to call for the others. She expected to here his voice ring through the woods, saying "Master! What's wrong!?" She expected Robin to take a deep shuddering breath, to quickly get a hold of himself, to jump up instantly and in a strong voice declare he was fine. She expected Robin to order Much to stop worrying. She expected him to be a leader in front of his servant.

Instead, Much said nothing. The servant simply walked quietly and calmly over to his master. Much sat down next to the shaking Robin, leaning against the same tree. He made no move to put an arm around his master, or a comforting pat, he didn't even look at the other man. He simply sat there, legs crossed, offering silent support without intruding.

Even more amazing was Robin's reaction. Marian still expected him to try to pull it together in front of his servant. She thought he wouldn't want even Much to see him like this. She thought his pride would need to be safely salvaged. He did none of these things. Robin simply continued to look out into the woods and quiver. He didn't look at the man beside him, but as if Much being there was a sign he was safe, he suddenly started shaking even harder. Much still made no move to touch Robin, even though the man was now practically seizing.

She watched as Robin pulled his legs up to his chest and took a deep breath, as he had so many times before. Except this time it worked. He suddenly had control of his breathing, the violent shaking faded into a quiet vibration. For a few minutes they stayed like that. Much watching the woods as if guarding his master, Robin breathing with his arms wrapped around his legs.

Suddenly as if both men received some signal, Robin looked up and Much looked over for the first time since he arrived. The two men made eye contact. Much nodded quickly and returned his gaze to the forest. Robin looked at his servant for a moment longer, face breaking out into the smallest smile of gratitude that Much would never see. Then Robin slowly straightened his knees and looked up once again to the sky, still trembling slightly.

Marian suddenly hated Much. She hated that he had been with Robin for those 5 years while she had not. She hated that he could do what she could not. She hated that he could comfort Robin while she hid in the woods. She hated that Robin had accepted the other man's help. She hated that they were so close. She hated that Much had stolen Robin's love from her. She had never been more jealous of anything in her life than she was of that peasant servant at that moment.

As feelings often do, this jealous rage left her quickly. She continued to watch the two men who simply sat in each other's presence. She smiled a small sad smile as she realized that there was something there that she would never be a part of. She was not as close to Robin as Much was, maybe she never would be. Robin had too much pride to let her see him like he had allowed Much. As the rage of this realization left her, it was replaced with a dull ache in her heart that she would never be, no matter how much the man insisted, Robin's number one. There would always be a part of him that Robin showed only to Much and she could never force it out of him.

Her tears, which had stopped during her fit of rage, slowly began again. She loved him with all her heart and now she saw that a part of his heart would never belong to her. She could never understand him like Much did. Her heart began to burn in her chest. She nodded at the scene, trying to accept what her soul already knew- she could not be Much. However, her acceptance did nothing to ease the feeling of incredible sadness that gripped her. Suddenly needing to not see them together, she turned and slowly and quietly returned to camp.

* * *

Much sat quietly next to his master, as always, doing what Robin needed him to do. Right then, Robin needed him to stay calm, Robin needed him to watch the fort for a moment and give him time to break down a little. So though Much wanted to panic or force Robin to just get some sleep or shove some food down the man's throat, he simply stared into the forest, ignoring yet supporting the trembling man beside him. It wasn't the first time this had happened.

Of course, he hadn't handled it so well the first time. He _had_ panicked then. It was in the Holy War, after they had been there for perhaps 6 months. He had found his master, shaking like a leaf inside his tent. He had rushed to the man's side, thinking he was having some kind of seizure. He had tried to get Robin to lie on his bed and had promptly gotten shoved down and told to just sit still. He had been hurt at first, Robin had never shoved him before, but as he sat there, he realized that Robin was not dying or even injured- the man was simply upset. The man was trying to get control of himself, for Much's sake- but the servant could tell he was only making it worse. Finally, Much had risked getting up again and put a hand on his master's shoulder.

The glare Robin shot him was almost enough to make him snatch his hand back- but Much firmly left it there and spoke, trying to calm his master down, "Look," he had said. "Just…relax." He wasn't telling him to relax- he was telling him to let it out and Robin had opened his mouth to argue that he didn't need it, no doubt. But Much continued. "I'll watch the door." Robin's anger had faded into gratefulness and as Much planted himself outside the tent to keep anyone from coming in he knew that he had done the right thing. Robin had emerged 10 minutes later, grinning and looking fine. Only Much knew that anything had happened.

Of course, it went both ways. Much was the one to allow Robin his time to break and Robin was the one to wake Much up from the nightmares he had. Much didn't know if he talked in his sleep or just looked scared or pained- but Robin always woke him with a gentle shake. He always had a mug of water ready and he always promptly turned his back to allow Much time alone to get himself re-settled. Much did the same thing when Robin had nightmares. He supposed that's what best friends were for.

As Much felt Robin's shakes fade to only slight trembles, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back, enjoying the feel of the night breeze on his face. It had been a long day, and Much wanted nothing more than to go back to camp and find Allan perfectly fine. If only this was just some crazed nightmare that Robin would soon wake him from.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," Robin said quietly. Much said nothing, didn't move- he just let his master talk. "You were supposed to be Earl, nothing was supposed to have changed while we were away."

Much opened his eyes and glanced toward Robin. The man wasn't looking at him, but at something in the distance, something beautiful and utterly unattainable.

"The war was supposed to stay in the Holy Land," Robin continued quietly. "The fighting, the running, the blood……the dying- it wasn't supposed to come home with us." Much still didn't say anything, there didn't seem to be anything to say. He didn't bother saying that Allan wasn't dead yet, or might not die- that wasn't what this was about. Robin leaned his head back and closed his eyes, as Much just had.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," Robin said again.

"No," Much finally said, looking out towards the forest. "It wasn't." He turned his head toward Robin to find his master already looking at him. Robin looked tired, more tired than he'd ever been, as Much knew he did. It was an odd thing to admit- that life had turned out wrong. Home was what had kept them going in the Holy Land- that once they got home life would be different- it would be over. That hope was gone now; it had died the moment Allan had collapsed.

"But it is." Robin sighed, his eyes flicked out to the woods before returning to Much.

Much nodded, looking down. He met Robin's eyes for a second before closing them and leaning his head back once more.

"Yes," he said, admitting defeat. "Yes, it is."

End Chapter 6.

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Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed this chapter- I love Much and Robin's relationship!

Please review!


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **Unfortunately, don't own anything.

**Author's Note:** Once again, thank you for all the reviews! Dr. Nat- I apologize to your students and hope you get your trip planned!

Anyway, here's the next one!

**Injured**

**Chapter 7**

Robin glanced over at Much who was falling asleep and then jerking awake every time his chin touched his chest. As Robin knew from experience, it was a most annoying position to be in. But Robin was glad to see it because it was his confirmation that he was okay. Because Much would never even approach sleep if Robin was in any danger, due to outside sources, or due to himself.

Robin smiled, watching his servant start to nod to sleep again. Most people would find it exceedingly strange that he knew he was okay by whether or not another man fell asleep. But when Much fell asleep, Robin knew that his fit had passed completely and that even his slightest tremor had stopped. Much had never fallen asleep when Robin really needed him- so the fact that Much was now dozing meant that Robin was fine. The awful moment of anger and despair had passed and he was still alive. Seeing Much suddenly snap his neck up again, he chuckled and decided to save the man from this awful half-awake state.

He laid a gentle hand on Much's shoulder, knowing how jumpy the man still got in his sleep. Much was awake instantly, eyes wild before relaxing as his saw Robin. He shot Robin a concerned glance, asking the silent question- "Are you okay?" It was funny that he always asked that with his eyes when his very actions told Robin the answer. Robin grinned and stood up, offering Much his hand.

"Shall we head back to camp?" Much smiled a tired but happy smile as he allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. Robin led the way back, re-entering the makeshift camp. To his surprise, John was awake and waiting for them. The older man looked tired and worried. See John's face like that reminded Robin of his own worry- it wasn't out of control anymore, it was manageable- but it was still there. He wished with all his heart that Allan would wake up and yet in an awful way he knew the man was dying. He checked on the other outlaws, as has become habit. Djaq was curled and for once, not shifting restlessly as she usually did to try and get away from the branches. Will had fallen asleep sitting propped up against a tree, but he had gradually slumped down into a half-lying position. Much was already moving to put more wood on the fire, to try and keep their tiny source of warmth alive. And Marian was- he twirled suddenly awake. Marian was not in camp.

"She said she had to leave," John spoke, answering Robin's movements. "It's getting early in the morning- her father might wake up." Robin felt a pang of hurt or regret or something he couldn't quite identify that she had left without saying goodbye. Much looked up sharply, clearly shocked at her actions as well. The moment lasted an instant and then Robin was back to staring at Allan, comforted by the rise and fall of the man's breathing.

"I will watch him," John announced. Much conceded with a tired nod, but Robin opened his mouth to argue. He had to be awake if…… if Allan died. He couldn't miss the man's passing. As the leader of the group he owed it to Allan to be there.

"Go to sleep, Robin," John said, cutting off Robin's argument. "You are no good if you are falling asleep tomorrow. He will still be here when you wake up."

Robin looked up at the big man, wanting to argue, but needing to sleep. The man looked back at him, tired, worried but confident. Somehow hearing John say it made Robin believe that Allan would live, at least until morning. He nodded and lay down on the blanket Much had set out for him near the fire.

He thought he would be awake for hours, thinking about Allan or questioning once again why the man hadn't said anything or how he could have foreseen this. Instead, as his head hit his small bag full of clothes, he fell asleep instantly.

* * *

John stared into the gloom of night, fiddling idly with a stick he had picked up. He had never been the type that could simply sit still and think. He was a man of action, a man who picked a path to follow and followed it- after the initial decision not much thought was made. Roy and the others had followed his guidance easily, accepting his ideas and his plans.

It had been interesting and different to suddenly be around so many people who thought so much. Robin, being the leader, seemed to think everything out- even when he seemed to act impulsively or announce his plans suddenly, even recklessly, John noticed he always paused to stop and think before the plan was actually carried out. Robin was what John called a "future" thinker- the man's mind splintered out into all different scenarios from a single decision that John had believed to be simple. But of course, there were times when Robin acted on instinct- simply doing what was right at the moment. The man hadn't thought about anything when he stopped John's wife from having her tongue cut out. Turning himself in to be killed was like second nature to the man, he paused only to apologize to Much. It was this unique blend of considering all his options, and simply living in the present that made Robin such a natural leader.

John was seen more of a leader because of his size. He was the biggest; ergo he must be the bravest and thus should lead. However John himself admitted that Robin was the braver man. Robin had done what John could not, what John had never even thought of. Robin had turned a horrible situation into something good. When John led the outlaws, they were simply that- outlaws. They hunted to eat, slept when they wanted, ran from the sheriff's men. Family, though missed, was simply written off. In a way they had used their current outcast status as an excuse to be lazy and terrorize people in the woods.

But when Robin became an outlaw, he did the exact opposite. Instead he unified them against the sheriff and for the people. Families once ignored were suddenly provided with food and money. Instead of stealing merely to survive, Robin taught them to steal for others, keeping little to none themselves. Robin had given the outlaws a purpose- something they had lacked before. John was ashamed, now looking back, that the idea had never entered his mind to steal and give something to his wife. It was his greatest shame that he never even knew he had a son.

Robin wasn't the only one who thought in John's new group. Much was more of a worrier than a thinker, but worrying required thought. Much managed to make everything dangerous- from eating uncooked meat to not being clean to catching a chill in the woods. Much was the one who made sure that the outlaws ate, bathed when it was warm enough and kept their clothes from going to total rags. At first John had thought that made the man a wimp- who else would not allow anyone to eat meat when it was the slightest bit pink- but he had learned that that was wrong. Much charged into battle just as fiercely as any of them and the man clearly knew his way with a sword. He had been the one to head back to Nottingham, alone, to save Robin when the others had deemed it too risky. And he had been brave today, keeping everyone focused and for the most part calm.

John had been sure that Allan thought only a minimum amount- but he had been proved wrong by that assumption as well. Allan thought when he thought everyone else was asleep- when he would stare into the fire unmoving. At other random moments throughout the day, Allan would become unusually quiet and his eyes would glaze over and he would think about something. Unlike Much, John had no idea what Allan was thinking about, just as he didn't know what Djaq thought about either. The big man suspected she thought about medical things or scientific ideas or sometimes, when her face seems pained, she thought about her home.

Will was the most astounding to John. The young man had the incredible gift to simply sit and think. He could do it for hours, sometimes idly whittling some piece of wood or sometimes simply not moving. John had never seen a man think so long and so deeply in his whole life. Will was a serious person, John didn't know if he was like that before his mother died or after but that is the way it was. John chuckled to himself as he realized he was sitting, thinking about how much the members of this group think. Maybe thinking was one of those things that wore off on you if you were around people who did it. It would explain why John was suddenly awake and thinking.

Or maybe it was the situation. John looked down at Allan, and felt his stomach clench just remembering the sight of Allan's back. He had never been the best with blood, but Allan's injury had revealed just how much he truly couldn't stand it. He forced himself to focus on the fact that Allan now had a blanket over the offending area and his stomach gradually relaxed. He began to shift and the silence became deafening.

This was awful, John decided. This was an awful way to die. It was worse than Roy's death. At least that had been quick and dramatic. Roy had died fighting, roaring his allegiance for all to hear. Roy had died a hero, he had died an honorable death- Allan was simply going to fade away in the woods. What were they going to say when asked how Allan died? He took a fever from some whip wounds? He could almost see people's reactions. They would look confused, waiting for more, waiting for the rest of the story. When none would come, they would hurriedly look sympathetic, trying and failing to hide their confusion. One of Robin Hood's men died like _that_? And what was John going to say? That he thought Allan's death was the worst he had seen- because even after the man was tortured as they tried to save him, he still faded out of existence. People who were not present when they were cleaning out his wounds could never understand what Allan went through. Allan would never be understood in the way he deserved.

And it was awful for those waiting. The endless, silent waiting for Allan to do something, to move, to gasp, to groan, to wake up- waiting for him to die was terrible. What did someone do when they were sitting, waiting for the slight movement of their friend's chest to stop? John personally was contemplating this question and carefully not looking at Allan. He wasn't sure he wanted to see that terrible moment when suddenly Allan failed to draw the next breath. His simple logic told him that if he wasn't watching to see this moment, it wouldn't happen. Surely a man couldn't die without anyone noticing, so if John didn't notice, Allan wouldn't die. It was simple. That is why Allan would live until morning because then everyone could be there to send him off properly.

He suddenly realized that all he was thinking about what the man's death. He risked a quick glance at the man and muttered out loud, "He might not die, you know," his voice rang loudly in the still night. His mind suddenly clung to this bit of hope that had been lost to him previously. "He won't die." He said it firmly, forcing the hope back into his head. He knew that accepting this hope would make the man's death more painful than if he accepted his death right then- but he owed it to the others- to Djaq, who believed she could fix him; to Much, who still attempted to take care of everyone; to Will, who might break if he lost someone else to death; to Robin, who couldn't stand to loose another member of his group and of course he owed it to Allan, who would be hurt at his lack of faith, who was fighting the hardest battle of his life,- he owed it to them not to give up hope.

John sat there and forced himself to watch Allan breath. His watching would not cause the man to die because the man _wasn't_ going to die. Allan was going to live and make fun of Much. The man was going to call John a big oaf, he was going to disagree with Robin, he was going to try and get Djaq in a dress, he was going to smile that smile that he saved for Will, he was going to fight again, he was going to laugh again, he was going to grin again, he was going to live.

John nodded firmly to himself and looked back towards Allan. He sat there, in the total dark of the woods, continuing to watch Allan's chest rise and fall, thinking and hoping.

End Chapter 7.

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Thank you for reading and please review:)


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: sigh

Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait! (It's nice and long to make up for it:) ) And Nicki- you are on a roll with being online at the right moment! And thanks for your reviews:)

As always- please review, they make a writer a happy person!

**Injured**

**Chapter 8**

Robin woke slowly the next morning, for the briefest instant feeling relaxed. Of course, the next moment all his worry and fear returned with an intensity that made his heart constrict in his chest. He sat up and his eyes sought out Allan before he even realized it.

The man was still alive. Breathing a quiet sigh of relief that he hadn't missed the man's death, he turned to thank John for taking last night's watch. It was then he realized that everyone else was awake and that John had gone to bed. Djaq was leaning over Allan, checking the man stitches, biting her bottom lip. Much was sitting next to the fire, mending shirts and trying to hide the fact that every few moments he was sneaking worried glances at Allan. Will was standing, watching Allan, leaning against a tree, fidgeting with a piece of bark in his hands. There was something frantic in his movements that Robin had never seen in Will before, just as there was a stillness in Allan that was unnatural.

That's why it had been interesting as the two men had become closer friends. They appeared to be polar opposites. Allan was filled with restless energy, constantly shifting and moving. Will could stand or sit completely still in a way some people found extremely unsettling. Allan was loud, voicing his opinion when no one cared to hear it. Will rarely spoke, and then only did when he had something important to say. Robin used to laugh at their "conversations" which basically included Allan talking and Will listening and nodding every so often. Gradually that had changed, perhaps Will didn't notice the change in himself, but Robin had seen Will relax and become less serious as he continued to live with the gang. Meanwhile, Allan would always shut up and listen to his friend whenever he spoke. Allan and Will were perfect compliments of each other. Will stopped Allan from joking his way through life; Allan helped Will to ease up a little. Robin didn't want to think about what would happen if Allan died- he didn't think anyone else could help Will to relax like he needed to.

Robin glanced around, catching Djaq's eye and was surprised to see her jerk her head to the woods. She obviously wanted to talk to him alone. He nodded, confused and his worry doubled. He followed her into the woods, glancing back to see if anyone else noticed this. Will was still staring at Allan, oblivious to everything around him and Much merely glanced up and then resumed work.

"What's wrong?" Robin asked quietly, not wanting to here what Djaq was about to tell him. She was going to tell him that Allan was dying, that there was nothing they could do, that maybe he should look into finding a healer from one of the villages. He knew they couldn't do that- one of the Sheriff's spies would pick it up and Guy would be tearing through the woods in no time.

"I think you should send Will home," Djaq said, Robin blinked, surprised. He had not expected that.

"Robin," Djaq said, looking back towards camp. "Allan… it's… he's just not getting better. I mean, the stitches are holding- it's not another infection- but…" she stopped abruptly. "He's not going to-"

"I know," Robin said, cutting her off before she could say anything. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He didn't want to deal with this. He wanted to help peasants and annoy the sheriff. He wanted to win Marian back and save King Richard. He didn't want to do……this. "But Will won't forgive himself if he's not here when…… when-"

"It probably won't be until the afternoon," Djaq said. Robin gave a small, sarcastic, sad smile at the fact that they were both avoiding saying the truth: Allan would probably be dead by tonight.

"And if that changes- Locksley isn't too far from here- we can get him quickly." Robin nodded silently. He knew what Djaq was saying, Will would break if he had to watch the decline as life faded into death. He had seen it in the Holy War, it was a long endless process in which you had nothing to do but imagine life without the person and vainly hope they would live. Perhaps it was better for the youngest member of the group to simply cut out the torturous waiting.

"I'll tell him," Robin said, "but he might not go." Djaq smiled and Robin could tell she was relieved.

"I know," she said, her smile fading. "But I think he will." Robin nodded and turned back toward camp. If he wasn't the leader and he had the opportunity to miss this- he would go to.

* * *

Will was dimly aware that Djaq and Robin had left and now came back. His curiosity wasn't all that piqued- nothing they were talking about really mattered, they couldn't be talking about anything he didn't already know. Allan was probably going to die. Maybe Djaq had an estimate, but he didn't want to hear it- his best friend was going to die.

It was such a certain thing to him. There was no way that someone could look as Allan did now and recover. He had seen it before- he was seeing it now. He blinked and suddenly Allan was his mother, pale, thin and cursedly happy that her boys had survived the winter. His father was there, trying to give her water and begging her to live. Djaq became Luke, silent and scared, attempting to help without getting in his father's way.

His hand twitched again and he fought the urge to pace. He couldn't just stand there waiting for Allan to die- surely something had to be done. He glanced around the camp. They didn't keep a supply of firewood, since they moved so much and it would only alert the guards where they had been. He couldn't mend clothes- so helping Much was out. The fire was already going, blankets had already been laid out, Allan was simply sleeping- there was nothing to do. He struggled to remember what they normally did, it had never seemed so boring before. Usually they were checking the traps for wagons, or stealing from some rich person, or delivering money and food to a village, or running from Guy. On the quiet days they did have, Allan would tell a story, or everyone would just sit and talk, or they would eat and just relax. They couldn't do any of that now. Allan was dying instead of talking. There was nothing to talk about, he couldn't eat. Relaxing was impossible when life was draining out of your best friend.

When his mom had died, he had kept busy. As she lay in their tiny house, with their father by her side, he had kept the store open. At night, as everyone else fell into an exhausted sleep, he would chop firewood. His family always needed firewood- he would chop it for hours on end, quietly and diligently swinging his axe up and down until his muscles burned and his shoulders ached. He would continue chopping until he ran out of wood. Then he would go into the forest and get another fallen tree, he would drag it out and chop that one. The pieces he cut were perfect; his entire mind would go into slicing the piece precisely down the middle. He didn't have to think about his dying mother, or broken father or lost brother- he could just chop wood as he had done his whole life.

There was no wood to cut here so instead his energy made him want to yell or pace or something. He jumped when Robin touched him on the shoulder. He had been too busy staring at Allan to notice his leader walk up to him.

"Follow me," Robin said, heading into the woods. Will hesitated, not wanting to leave Allan. Finally he followed, hoping that Robin would give him something to do. As he finally broke eye contact with Allan, he couldn't help but feel a little relieved. When he wasn't looking at that light, slender body he could convince his mind that Allan didn't look as bad as he thought. Robin turned to him when they were a distance away and hesitated. Will threw him a short questioning glance, but said nothing.

"Will," Robin said. "Djaq says that Allan should be okay until this afternoon." Will frowned, he hadn't wanted to hear the deadline. The words 'until this afternoon,' resonated in his skull. He didn't want to hear this, Allan had to live.

"Allan probably won't wake up," Robin said, quickly, the slight quiver in his voice revealing how much this upset him. Will looked carefully away from Robin, he couldn't deal with this- Allan had to wake up- if only for a moment. Will had to at least say goodbye.

"Look, what I'm trying to say," Robin said after a long moment. "Is you should go home for a while." Will looked sharply back at Robin. Did Robin really think that Will was going to abandon Allan during this?

"I know," Robin said quickly, catching Will's indignant glare. "It seems like your deserting him. But, Allan wouldn't…… he would want you to go." Will's anger left like a candle snuffed out suddenly. If he was being honest, he did not want to stay and watch his friend die, he didn't want to watch as the man grew paler, as the fever continued to climb, as the man's breath grew fainter and fainter. But, still he owed it to Allan to be there. He couldn't just miss it.

"We'll come get you if anything changes," Robin assured Will's unspoken dilemma. "You'll be there when he…… just go and get away from it for now." Will felt guilty at the wave of relief that washed over him. He could go home and do something- chop wood.

"You promise you'll get me," he said sternly. Robin nodded whole heartedly.

"I swear to you, if anything happens- we'll get you." Will nodded and headed back toward camp. He grabbed his axe and slowly walked over to Allan.

"Allan," he said to the sleeping man in a loud voice. He waiting, hoping for the man to stir. Getting no reaction he lowered his voice so no one else could hear. "I'll be back, okay? I'm coming back- so……I'll see you then."

He took a breath and nodded his gratitude to Robin as he walked out of the camp.

* * *

Dan Scarlett shaded his eyes from the glare of the sun as he recognized the figure coming down that lane and towards his house. He would recognize that hooded man anywhere- any man would recognize his son. He was too happy to see his son to notice Will's silent nodded greeting and instant retreat to the back workshop.

It had been odd, not having Will around. After he had lost his hand, his older son had become vital in keeping the stop open and running. Will loved wood, in a way similar to Dan, that Luke lacked. Though Luke was very fine with wood and could successfully run his own shop, he hadn't fallen in love with it as Will had. Dan had enjoyed teaching Will with all his heart. Even when his son was 5, Will would simply sit and watch his father work. When Dan finally let him hold an axe as he turned 10, Will had held it as if he was made for the instrument. Simple lessons seemed to already be instilled in Will's head; moderate lessons only had to be taught once. Even the advanced things seem to come to his son as if he already knew what he was doing.

However, Will's love of the axe, unlike his father's, had extended beyond just using it to carve wood. When Will was 13, Dan had caught him practicing throwing his small axe into a tree. Dan had scolded him, telling him to "leave fighting to nobles and the like- we have a business to run." Will had never spoken against this order, and to all eyes seemed to follow it, but there were times when Dan would notice Will holding his axe in more of a fighting stance before hurriedly returned to the regular cutting stance. But, Dan had never been sure of this, and had never caught Will blatantly doing it again, so he ignored it. By the time he sincerely noticed Will's tendency to disappear into the woods once a day, Robin had left, his wife had died and he was too distracted to restrict it. Luke began to fool around with the bow and arrow and he didn't say anything, sensing that this was one thing neither Will nor Luke would obey him in.

Will's disobedience of his orders to stay away from fighting was unable to be hidden on the day that he was almost hung. As soon as the awful bag was removed from his head, Dan had seen a different person. His quiet, shy, gentle son suddenly seemed confident and passionate. He had reached for Dan's small axe without realizing it and Dan had given it to him with a grip on the shoulder indicating he approved. He didn't think his disapproval would have stopped Will, but his son's quick smile before expertly throwing the axe into the arm of a guard currently attacking Robin had made it worth it. Dan had watched, amazed as his son had grabbed both a long axe and a sword and fought daringly across swarms of guards. Luke's tug on his sleeve had reminded him he had to go, but as he watched his oldest child fighting like a seasoned veteran, he felt suddenly both small and proud of his son.

After that terrible day, Dan suddenly realized that Will couldn't stay with him, keeping a wood shop. It had been a sad and painful revelation that Dan could no longer provide Will with all his son needed. He knew Will needed to do more for the people of other villages than Dan could support him in. His son had grown up while his father was unaware. Dan had stayed awake that night, knowing that Will could not simply go to sleep in his room as Luke had, knowing that he had to say goodbye.

Will had come, quietly and awkwardly holding Dan's small axe. Dan had noticed how it was carefully cleaned of any blood that must have stained it, a sign of Will's humble apology. Will's own small axe was tucked into his belt, as it usually was, yet somehow that night it had not looked like a carpenter's tool, but like the weapon it had become. Will had entered the small house and sat down, carefully placing Dan's axe on the table. Will had carefully looked anywhere but his father, not wanting to see his father's disapproval or anger that his orders were so obviously disobeyed.

Dan had been to overcome with emotion to speak and Will took this as anger.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, looking down at his lap. No one walking in on this scene could've guessed that the humble man sitting at the table was a few short hours ago bravely killing men.

"No, Will," Dan said, pushing his axe off the table so he could lean forward. He struggled for an instant, trying to find a way to express how wrong he had been, how Will had nothing to be sorry for, how proud he was. Will, in an uncharacteristic need to fill the silence, had continued.

"I know you told me not to learn to fight," he said. "But I thought I needed to know how to defend myself and you and Luke and…… Mom." Dan felt his eyes fill with tears at Will's heartbreaking voice as he named his mother. He tried to say something, but his throat had closed and instead he took a moment to take control of himself.

"I don't regret it," Will said suddenly, defensively. He looked at his father for the first time that night and Dan recognized the same determination that had shined during the battle. But behind all that, was a son's need for his father to understand.

"You shouldn't," Dan said quickly, gripping Will's shoulder. "I was wrong, I thought that we wouldn't need to know that- but you were right. I'm so proud of you, Will." Relief flooded Will's face, even as Dan cringed as his lack of the proper words. Some of the tension in the room eased, but not all as both men knew what had to happen next.

"How's Luke?" Will asked, stalling the moment they both knew would happen.

"He's fine," Dan had replied, leaning back in his chair. "A bit shaken, but fine. By tomorrow he'll be telling all his friends that he was saved by Robin Hood."

"No one has come after him or Alex?" Will asked.

"No," Dan grinned. "Apparently you guys are unofficially pardoned." Will nodded and suddenly Dan was aware they had nothing more to talk about. He wanted to tell his son to get to bed, to go to his room, that they had work in the morning, but he knew he couldn't. Will was his own person now.

"I have to get back to Robin," Will finally said after an uneasy silence. Dan nodded, holding back all the protests he had, struggling with his own selfish desire to keep Will home.

"I know," he said, simply. He stood and Will followed his example. Dan nodded.

"I'll visit," Will said and reached out to shake his father's hand, an oddly formal way to say goodbye. Dan clasped his son's hand, telling himself he could do this. He could send his son out into the real world. But neither man broke the grip on the other's hand and Dan pulled his son into a hug, blinking back tears. Will hugged his father back, in a way unhappy to be leaving as well.

"I'm so proud of you, Will," Dan whispered in his son's ear. "I'm so proud." Father and son stayed like that for a while longer, before finally, Will pulled away. Will grabbed his long axe that he had left by the door and nodded once more to his father.

"Bye, Dad," he had said. "Tell Luke I'll be back."

Dan had nodded and stayed awake for a while longer, sitting at his table, feeling alone and missing his wife more than ever.

Now, as Dan finished the last part on the barrel he was working on, he decided to go back and check on Will, see what he was up to. He nailed the last nail and sticking his axe back in his belt, walking around back. Luke was out hanging with some of the other village boys, so Will was alone in the backyard of the house.

Dan walked around back to see that Will had removed his shirt and was chopping firewood, mechanically and frantically. Will didn't look up as Dan entered the yard, opening and closing the gate, instead he continued to split wood at an alarming rate, while still hitting them perfectly every time. Dan shrugged and chose to ignore it- his son was famous for his darker moods, especially after his mother died.

Dan worked for about half and hour on some random project in the small open shed they had, the sound of Will's axe a familiar background noise. Straightening to take a break, it was then that he realized sometime was not right with Will. The man continued to work, his pace increasing, despite the heat of the day. Sweat was running down Will's forehead and Dan knew from experience, his muscles must be exhausted, but still Will continued to push himself harder and still the split wood was perfectly divided.

"Hey, Will," Dan called. His son didn't respond, merely swinging up his axe and bringing it down with more force than was needed. "Will!" Dan called again and Will finally stopped, looking up at his father, confused.

"You better drink some water," Dan said, trying to place when he had seen Will like this before. Will obediently walked over and took a long gulp of water before returning swiftly to cut more wood.

Dan frowned, vaguely remembering Will acting like this before. It suddenly hit him like a punch to the face. Will was like this when his mother was dying. Dan had been too preoccupied to notice at the time, but he remembered finally returning to work and being shocked at the amount of fire wood they had and at the quality of products Will had made. While Dan was mourning his wife, Will had completed a few major orders the shop had received- people had commented that they were the sturdiest, most well made things they owned. When Will got upset, he threw himself into his work, using his entire mind to focus on making woodwork and avoid thinking about whatever was wrong. Dan hadn't been there for Will when his wife died, he knew this and he regretted it. He wouldn't make the same mistake now.

"Will!" he called and his son once again stopped, looking over. "Come here." Will put down his axe and walked into the shade, his eyes serious and tired.

"Do you need me to make something?" he asked, trying to pretend everything was normal when Dan saw that it was horribly not.

"Will," Dan said, seriously. "What's wrong?" Will opened his mouth to lie, but then Dan saw his resolve flicker. Suddenly the mask over his eyes dropped and Dan was looking at a terrified little boy.

"What is it?" Dan asked, more concerned than ever. Will gulped in a breath of air, before saying quietly.

"It's Allan," Dan vaguely remembered Allan. Will had once brought him on his usual weekend visit. The other man had stood awkwardly outside while Will said hello to his father and brother for the first time in two weeks. Will had introduced him and the other man had obviously been uncomfortable around Dan and Luke. He seemed unsure of what to do around family and instead stood off to the side as if he didn't want to get in anyone's way. During the short lunch, Allan had warmed up to Luke, cheerfully telling the young boy of all his brother's mistakes at the camp. Dan had been pleased and a bit jealous, of Allan's obvious closeness with his son. Will seemed happier around Allan, smiling and throwing some jokes back at the man and taking Allan's return banter with an easy smile. Dan had remembered that this is what their house used to be like, full of laughter and jokes- before his wife had died.

Allan had caused Will to smile again, to laugh again. Dan appreciated him for this, even while the other man clearly was uncomfortable around Dan. Allan was polite to a fault around him, even though that didn't seem like his true personality. Dan got the impression that Allan was trying to earn his acceptance, and furthermore was terrified of him. Will seemed to realize this too, and quickly pulled Allan out to the back shop and attempted to teach the man to do some basic woodwork. The backyard was soon filled with cries of playful frustration and mock scolding from the two men. Allan had visited a few more random times with Will, so that Luke had also come to like Allan. However, it was still obvious that Allan was most comfortable around Will and only Will.

"What's wrong with him?" Dan asked, steering his son towards a bench and indicating for him to sit.

"He was whipped during an undercover mission," Will said quietly. Dan cringed, to be whipped was an awful thing.

"But he didn't tell anyone," Will continued. Dan added the unspoken words in himself- 'just like mom didn't tell anyone.' Will took a deep breath and continued in the simple voice of a child.

"They got infected- and now Djaq says that he…… that he's… he might die." Dan sat down next to his son and pulled him into an awkward hug.

"I'm so sorry, Will," he said, wanting to let his son know that he was there for him this time, that Will didn't have to hold it all in. For an instant he thought he had done it, Will seemed to relax. But then, the younger man was firmly untangling himself from his father's grasp. He rubbed his face with his hand and Dan couldn't tell if tears had actually fallen. Dan watched as Will took a deep breath and pulled all the emotion that had been on his face inward.

"Thanks," Will said, but Dan knew he didn't really mean it. He meant thanks for trying- Dan had done nothing to ease his son's pain. "I'm going to go chop wood." Will walked out of the barn, leaving his father alone.

Dan suddenly understood that he could not be the one to help his son, in failing to comfort Will when his wife died, and forcing Will to run the family for almost a month, he had ruined some important bond with his son. While Will would always love him, he would never be the one Will turned to in a time of need- because he had already let him down.

* * *

Author's Note: Please review! (and hope you liked all the Will stuff!) 


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **sighhhhhhh

**Author's Note:** Thank you all for the wonderful reviews- they really make my day! All are read multiple times and smiled over. So please keep them coming:)

**Injured**

**Chapter 9**

Djaq ate the warm stew without tasting it, though usually she quite enjoyed Much's cooking. In fact, though the compliments he got were few, everyone knew that Much made the best he could with the very little they had. If wasn't gourmet food certainly- but for peasant's who lived on mostly bread and the rare piece of meat, it was amazing. Only Robin tended to eat it with no sign of clear appreciation and she suspected that this was because he was used to it after eating it for over 5 years. Everyone else showed signs of deep satisfaction whenever eating. John would rip off the first bite of whatever he been cooked and then give a long, deep sigh of satisfaction. Will would eat it in small bites and that flash of guilt that sometimes passed over his face was testament enough to how good he thought the meal was. Djaq herself ate it slowly and deliberately, enjoying it, while at the same time wishing she was home eating the food she was more used to.

Allan tended to study his food in an uncharacteristic pensive mood. It was not the same flash of guilt that sometimes washed over Will's face, but he was clearly remembering something. Then suddenly regular Allan would return and he would eat at top speed, eating as if it would be taken from him and grinning at Much to beg for more. Allan was the most vocal about his compliments for Much's cooking, but then- Allan was the most vocal about pretty much everything.

Djaq glanced around to see that John was eating semi-normally. He was cautious about it first, probably remembering the fact that the last thing he had eaten had come up the wrong way. However, now that he started, it was clear that the man had been getting hungry, despite recent events. Djaq herself had ignored the hunger growing in her stomach until Much had handed her the bowl- then it had come back with a vengeance. She still didn't seem to taste the food, but the feeling of it sliding down into her stomach was one she was grateful for. Meanwhile, Robin was forcing down food in an obvious attempt to please Much. Every spoonful seemed to be a battle and swallowing looked decidedly painful. Even after he had swallowed he kept him mouth firmly shut for a few seconds as if to ensure that it was staying down. His begging glances in Much's direction were answered with stern glares until finally Robin had eaten a third of his bowl. He then set it down, shaking his head, silently declaring he was done.

Much, on the other hand, was eating rapidly and abundantly. He was propped up against a tree and simply ate spoonful after spoonful, staring at Allan. He only paused to glare at Robin every so often and to fill up his bowl again. He filled it once, twice, finished off Robin's bowl and then finished off the pot. Djaq smiled at their opposite ways of dealing with tension. The two men were just perfect opposites of each other. It seemed impossible to imagine one without the other. Much without Robin looked lost and Robin without Much looked oddly unprotected. Even when they fought together, one seemed to know instinctively what to do to protect the other without getting in his way. The two were a deadly fighting duo.

She glanced back again at her bowl and wondered if she should try to feed Allan. Part of her said that it would give him strength; the other said that it would just choke him. Then the hopeful part said that perhaps choking would cause the man to wake up, the other knew that it would just make his last moments all the more painful. Another part said that he didn't have the strength to even choke, that it would kill him. She wished her father was here- he always knew what to do. His hesitation would last for mere seconds while hers was dragging on for hours. She kept deciding to not try to feed him, but the question kept circulating in her brain. She tried to think of previous cases she had like this, but in the war those she lost died while she was frantically stitching up their wounds. Or within a day after being injured. Not many had lasted this long and then quietly slipped away, or at least if they did there were so many others dying she didn't notice them except in a vague numb way she acquired throughout the war.

Now there was nothing to focus on but Allan. No one spoke as they ate, even Much and Robin's interaction was through gestures and looks. The camp was brimming with nervous, anticipating energy. Everyone was thinking about Allan- there was nothing else to think about. Her mind kept running over where they would bury him, or if they would make a tombstone, or who would say something at the funeral, or if he would rather be burned, or if he would want his sword with him or whether Will would take it, or so many little details like that, which made her want to simply stop thinking all together. She kept reining back her thoughts from this direction to focus on the positive. He hadn't gotten any worse, which was a good thing- but of course he hadn't gotten any better. He was simply hanging, and the whole camp was hanging with him, waiting for him to do something.

She was so focused on Allan and so frustrated that nothing had changed, that she jumped when suddenly his breath came out of its normal rhythm. It was a subtle change, but she was almost glad of it because for once she knew what it meant. She pressed her ear gently to his back to hear better- it was as she thought. His lungs were having more trouble because he was lying on his chest, and had been for nearly a day now. Finally! Something she could fix. All they had to do was roll him onto his back and he would be able to breathe better.

Onto his back. She suddenly remembered why he wasn't on his back before. The whip wounds, newly stitched were still there. She couldn't just roll him on his back. She sighed- why couldn't anything be simple?

"Djaq, what's wrong?" Robin spoke from behind her. He had noticed her motions and was currently staring at her, eyes wide and fearful. She could almost see him about to order Much to run and get Will. For an instant she hesitated- should she help him breath or keep him off his back? Finally she decided that in his current state he probably wouldn't even feel the pain the move would cause, and he would benefit more from being about to breath.

"Put all the beds together," she said, turning to Robin. Much seemed to move before she finished speaking, perhaps guessing what she was going to say. John began to help without questioning, while Robin looked at her, questioning why.

"We need to put him on his back- it'll make it easier for him to breathe," She said, starting to clear the area around him so they could pick him up easier. Robin glanced at the man's back, his face paling, before pulling it together and sending her a trusting nod. She hoped she deserved that trust. If only her father were here.

Much, John and Robin hurriedly set up another, thicker bed next to Allan's current position, piling every spare bit of clothing and blankets. She sighed, it wasn't the straw filled mattress she longed for, but it would do.

"Alright," she said. "Let's do this. John, you get his chest, Robin- grab his leg. Much, you help John and then turn him over. I'll get his head. When we set him down- make it as gently as you can." Everyone nodded, terrified but determined.

As everyone got into position, she sent a silent prayer to Allah- she hoped this was the right thing to do.

"OK, on 3. 1…2…3!" It was suddenly shockingly clear how much weight Allan had lost during his sickness. Lifting him was too easy, luckily that made placing him down again easier as well. As they gently lowered him, everyone stepped back, hoping that the current shift would result in something, anything. There was a tense moment when everyone held their breath, staring at Allan.

Then the utter disappointment hit like wave. John stepped back, growling a curse of some kind. Robin pressed his hands into his face, taking a deep breath to remain calm. Much simply nodded and sighed. Djaq, to her shame, felt tears welling in her eyes as she stared, unmoving at the man. That was supposed to do something. She noticed in an offhand way that his breathing was better- but that's not what she wanted. She wanted him to groan, she wanted him to wake up, she wanted to see his blue eyes, she wanted him to get better. She wanted for Will to return to camp and find that she had fixed his best friend. She wanted the disbelief to flicker across his face, the wide grin to break his serious features, she wanted to see Allan smile weakly back at his friend. But Djaq didn't get what she wanted.

Instead, Allan continued to remain unmoving. She turned sharply away back towards his old bed. It was then that she noticed the blood stained blanket he had been lying on. She had been trying to forget having to clean his wounds all day and now the evidence that she had tortured him was there, staring up at her. Blood stained the edges of the blanket where it had dripped down his sides, dark, deep and angry. All of that had been for nothing!

Seeing her stunned look, Much had the blanket swept out of sight before she properly realized it was gone. Before anyone else could see it, he had taken it to the stream to be washed. She sighed and sat down next to Allan. She wiped away her tears, watching and waiting once more.

* * *

Will stopped briefly at the stream to rinse off the sweat that now covered his body. He welcomed the burning of his muscles, the ache between his shoulder blades, and the reformed calluses on his palms- the signs that he had done something useful. He went for a quick dip, scrubbing quickly before returning to camp.

Allan was still alive. Will noticed that he was now on his back, but in an odd way nothing had changed. Everyone still kept their quiet vigil over Allan. Djaq still stared at him, biting her lip. Robin continued to watch Allan, while making systematic checks of everyone else in the camp. Much was washing a pot instead of mending shirts, but the quick glances he threw at Allan were the same. John had woken, but he also sat unmoving, waiting.

"Need something to eat?" Much asked as Will fully entered the camp.

"Ate there," Will answered, heading over to Allan. Much accepted this with a nod. It was a lie. Will would never take food from his father and brother unless he also brought some. But right now he didn't want to eat, and missing a day of meals would not kill him- he knew that from experience.

Djaq nodded to him and abandoned her position next to Allan so he could sit. He said down, calm enough to keep watch over his friend. He could handle this. As if somehow sensing that Will was keeping watch, the other outlaws relaxed. Much's glances became less frequent. Robin closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the tree he was sitting at. John stood and stretched and wandered into the forest to do something. Djaq watched the two men for a while before moving to help Much mend something.

Meanwhile, Will was comforted by Allan's gentle breathing. In and out. He simply watched the rise and fall of the man's chest- each time it moved was a silent testament to the fact that Allan was not dead yet. In and out. There was no hope, there was no fear, there was simply Allan's breathing, which continued at a steady pace. In and out.

Without his knowing, the afternoon passed. Djaq's prediction didn't come true. Allan continued to breathe- In and out. He continued to watch as dusk fell. He refused dinner to simply sit and watch his friend live, despite Much's obvious disapproval. He didn't care. He didn't care about anything except that motion. In and out. It was as regular as his own heartbeat and he knew exactly when the next breath should come. He continued to watch and listen as night fully fell, only seeing the movement in the shadows dancing across Allan's chest from the flickering flames. In and out. No one told him to try and rest, no one spoke. The whole camp listened in silence for that quiet noise. In and out. In and out.

As the rest of the gang slowly began to nod off, Will continued to watch. In and out. John fell asleep first, shortly followed by Djaq. In and out. Robin continued to doze against the tree, while Much succumbed with his mending still in his hand. In and out. In and out. That's all that mattered. In and out.

Will sat there, unmoving and silent. In and out. He wasn't fighting sleep, he couldn't be tired. Allan's breathing kept him awake. In and out. He was alert to nothing else, but nothing else mattered. In and out. In and out. In and-

The breath didn't come out. Will own breath caught in his throat. He knew that he should be yelling, he should be screaming, he should be shaking. His brain told him he should be panicking.

Instead, he couldn't find the energy to cry out. Instead, he silently leaned forward and spoke in a quiet, small, utterly disbelieving voice:

"Allan?"

* * *


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** Everyone who thinks I secretly own Robin Hood and really write the show and make millions of dollars- raise your hand! looks around No one? See, so you all know I don't!

**Author's Notes:** Sorry for the cliffhanger on the last chapter everyone ducks as various object are thrown But- here's the next chapter- All reviews make me smile!

**Injured**

**Chapter 10**

Time seemed to freeze. In a distant way Will knew that only the briefest of seconds had passed, that Allan's breath still could come out. But his head was already thinking only one thing: 'No, no, no, no, no, no, no…' It was a constant, unending plea directed at Allan, directed at God, directed at everything, directed at nothing. The panic that failed to hit him at first suddenly struck. Suddenly he was breathing too quickly, he was trying to shake his head, he was trying to close his eyes, he was trying to deny what was happening before him. He was trying so hard and achieving nothing. The only thing he was doing successfully was thinking that one word: No.

No, this wasn't happening. No, Allan wasn't dead. No, he wasn't ready for this. He had all day and he still wasn't ready. No, he hadn't seen his mother die. His father's wail had alerted him. No, he couldn't handle this. No, Allan couldn't be dead. No, he wasn't crying. No, he wasn't in control. No, no, no. Every question in the world at that moment could be answered the same way: No.

He put a hand on Allan's shoulder, meaning to shake his friend awake. But the strength drained out of his arm, even as it forced his lungs to pump too quickly. His hand simply stayed there, feeling his friend's clammy skin beneath it. Oh God, no. No, this wasn't supposed to happen. No, this wasn't happening. No, it hadn't happened. He finally managed to close his eyes. No. No. No. No.

The choked gasp that caused the body beneath him to seize against his hand, made his eyes fly open. Allan wasn't dead. Allan was coughing. Allan was moving. No, Allan was dead. He had been dead. He was alive. Will's brain swam, uncomprehending.

"Robin!" Finally he thought something besides 'No.' Allan was alive. "DJAQ!" He was alive. He wasn't dead.

He didn't see the commotion his yells caused. He didn't see Robin jump up, dagger out and ready. He didn't see Much snap up and dive for his shield. He didn't see Djaq rush towards him with every intention of dragging him away from Allan's dead body. He didn't see John, who could usually sleep through anything, wake up immediately. He didn't see anything except the movement of Allan's chest, which was no longer steady, but uneven and painful. That didn't matter, because his chest was moving- he was breathing- he was alive.

"Allan!" Djaq's voice came from surprisingly near. He hadn't sensed her come up. Her voice was franticly happy and suddenly Will realized he was grinning. "You need to calm down- just relax. You're ok- you're back hurts because you're lying on it. Just take deep breaths. You're ok. We're all here."

Will gripped his friend's shoulder harder and Allan relaxed. The man groaned but that made everyone in the camp grin wider. He was alive. Slowly, as if he had almost forgotten how to do so, Allan a Dale opened his eyes.

They were glossed over with pain, tired, and unfocused. He blinked, once, twice, and for the briefest instant they met with Will's gaze. The corner of the man's mouth twitched as if he were trying to smile, and his eyes twinkled for just a moment but even as he tried to jerk his head in a nod, he fell back asleep.

But that didn't matter. He had woken up, he was not dead, he was alive. Will wasn't focused on anything else, so Djaq's words made him jump.

"The fever has broken," she declared, smiling up at Will, eyes bright with tears. It was then that he noticed something he had skimmed over before. Allan's skin was clammy. Because Allan was sweating. "His fever has broken." Djaq announced again, looking back over at the outlaws behind her.

Will looked back over at the other outlaws, grinning, wanting to share in their happiness. Robin had his arm around Much, who looked as if he might just pass out from happiness. The servant's eyes were filled with tears, and he wasn't grinning, but instead looking shocked, his mouth opened slightly. He seemed to sway and made the occasional motion to sit back down. Robin was holding him up, though, grinning in a shocked manner before pulling Much into a full hug, which Much weakly returned. Robin was already shaking with excitement, while Much clearly needed a moment. He wouldn't get one though, Robin was already pulling him into some half crazed jumping dance, just as a little child would.

John eyes were wide and shocked before suddenly the big man let out a roar of glee. John ran up and grabbed the much smaller Robin from behind, lifting him into the air. This caused a laughing Robin to finally let go of Much, who promptly sat down and took a deep breath.

"Well," the servant said, looking dazed. "Well, we should eat."

Will simply grinned wider and turned to Djaq, who looked shocked, happy and embarrassed all at once. She was still watching Allan, tears of joy sliding down her face.

"You did it," Will said to her. "You fixed him." Djaq shook her head, trying to argue but suddenly Robin was behind her, scooping her into a hug. She stiffened at first, slightly pushing away, but Robin didn't let go.

"Will's right," Robin said, absolute authority in his tone. "You did it." At that Djaq burst into tears, sobbing into Robin's chest. Will's eyes widened awkwardly, but Robin seemed to handle this as if he were used to women crying into his chest.

"It's alright," he said, gently rubbing the short woman's back. "It's over. He's going to live. You did it."

John was also looking shocked at Djaq's outburst, but Much thrust a pot into his hands.

"Go fill this up!" Much ordered. "We need dinner!" John jumped to obey and Will looked down back towards Allan. He heard Djaq stop crying and sensed her push away from Robin.

"I'm sorry," she said. "It's just been such an awful day." Her mention of the previous day caused everyone to remember exactly what they had been through. The mood seemed to dampen instantly.

Will suddenly wanted to wake Allan up and demand why he hadn't told anyone. A brief glance at Robin told him that the leader was wondering the same thing. John had turned green again and Much's grin had fallen from his face. Djaq wiped her eyes, apparently unaware in the shift of mood she had caused.

"He's going to live," Robin said firmly, trying to distract everyone from their thoughts. The smiles returned to everyone's face, but the complete euphoria had departed.

Will studied Allan's face, it looked more pained now, but also more alive. Allan was going to live. Even as the relief returned, he felt something else stirring in his chest, something that he had ignored while he thought Allan was dying. It wasn't anger that Allan hadn't told him, it was something else. He silently admitted something to himself. He was hurt. He and Allan were best friends, and yet Allan had almost died rather than tell Will what was wrong with him. Did he think that Will wouldn't care? Did he not trust Will? Would he do it again?

At least with his mother, he had known why she did what she did. He hated it, he hated himself for a while, he may have even hated her- but he understood. But Allan had done something that he couldn't understand, something that hurt him, something that made him feel betrayed. He suddenly knew that this was not something Allan could laugh off. Once Allan was recovered, they had to talk about this- because Will couldn't pretend it hadn't happened. He couldn't pretend that everything was ok. He needed an answer.

He removed his hand from Allan's shoulder, abruptly tired even though a moment ago he had been overjoyed and alert. He smiled down at his friend, trying to push away his questions. Allan was alive- he could explain later.

* * *

Djaq smiled as she looked around the outlaws after her outburst. There was Will, who smiled wearily and seem to be fighting a losing battle again sleep. John was beaming at Allan, as if the man had somehow personally done the big man a huge favor by living. Much had recovered from his shock and had set to making a celebratory meal. Djaq couldn't follow what he was doing. The man appeared to be throwing things into the pot at random, talking to himself and nodding.

She finally worked up the nerve to glance at Robin. Thankfully, he was no longer looking at her, but she was still mortified. She would've been fine if no one mentioned she was crying, if everyone ignored it like they were supposed to, but the stupid man had just hugged her and given her the opportunity to break down even further. She knew that in a few days, she would realize he had given her exactly what she needed at that moment, as he always managed to do with everyone, but at that moment she glared angrily at him. Men should stay out of it when a woman wanted to cry by herself.

She tore her thoughts away from Robin and turned to Allan. The man was sweating and had begun to shiver slightly. She moved to put a heavier blanket on him, but suddenly Will had grabbed it and was doing it for her. He shot her a worried look as if afraid she couldn't handle it. She bit back a yell at him. She had cried for just a minute and suddenly she couldn't handle putting a blanket over a sleeping man!

She looked back down to Allan, a grin returning to her face. Allan was going to live. Her current situation caused her to remember what she loved best about Allan- he had never treated her like some soft girl. The others had walked on eggshells for the first week she joined the gang. They gave her less to carry than the others, she didn't have to do certain chores, she got served dinner first, they would pick up her plate so she didn't have to move. While it was nice for the first day or two after being a slave for more than a year, it got old pretty quickly. Allan had never done that. He wasn't rude around her, but he didn't pretend around her either. He was simply normal.

Allan always grabbed food from Much for himself and for Will. When she arrived, he did the same. He grabbed one bowl for himself and one for Will. Will had tried to give his to her, despite her insistence that she could get it herself. Allan had been on the receiving end of many disapproving stares at that moment, but he had simply shrugged and nodded his agreement with her statements that she didn't need to be served first. Allan hadn't offered to carry her bag the next day. He didn't wait for her to pick what spot in the camp she wanted before settling in. He just accepted her as someone to be treated like everyone else.

Gradually, the others had stopped giving her special treatment (except for of course, moments like this when suddenly she was a hysterical woman). They had learned what Allan knew all along- that Djaq was not some weak person- she could take care of herself. Now she was proud to say that she carried just as much stuff as the boys, did all the different chores as it was her turn to, and she battled for the spots with fewer roots just the same as everyone else. Maybe some people wanted to be treated specially, and if they did then these were the right guys to go to (even Allan), but Djaq knew that she knew them better because she was one of them.

If she was being honest, she would admit that at times she still felt a little bit like an outsider. All of them seemed to be paired off before she joined the group. Robin and Much were inseparable, which was to be expected after fighting together for 5 years. Meanwhile, Allan and Will seemed to have become amazingly close for being complete opposites and having just met each other a mere month before. As she slowly picked up bits about John, she realized that he was still mourning a man named Roy, who had died shortly before she joined. However, when she did have these moments of feeling left out- they never lasted long. Allan would tease her about wearing a dress, or John would playfully pick her up easily, or Robin would smile just at her when the boys were acting particularly wild (of course then he would go join them). It was the moments when Will carefully carved her name in the back of her tag, or Much gave her a heartfelt thanks for helping him mend something, that let her know she was truly part of the gang. She remembered smiling proudly as they all went silent so they could hear her attempt to explain how she could start a fire with a piece of glass. Maybe she didn't have her special "pair" in the group- but she was still in it- and that was enough.

More importantly, all of the group would live. Allan would live. She didn't really know how he could've lived through what he did- she fully expected him to die, as awful as that sounded. But, it didn't really matter how he survived- she just thanked Allah that he had. He was alive, he would stay alive. She didn't have to see Will struggle to get through this, or hear John throw up in the woods, or watch Much begging Robin to eat, or sense Robin's guilt throughout the camp. She didn't have to do any of that because Allan was living. She moved to get a rag to wipe the sweat off Allan's face and was pleasantly surprised when Will made no move to help her. Hopefully, he'd already forgotten her little outburst.

She looked around. John was sitting against a tree once more. Much was cooking, Will was thinking, Robin was calmly looking around at everyone else. Life seemed to be back to normal. The only thing missing was Allan's loud jokes- but they would be back. In a few weeks this would just be some awful memory.

* * *

**Please review!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: **Still wishing...

**Some Notes:** As always, I love every review! Dr. Nat- your story made me laugh so hard I think I may have damaged an ab muscle! Nicki- story isn't finished yet! I'm predicting... 5 more chapters maybe. Threll- believe me- your review was the exact opposite of earbashing- i think i've read it on the upwards of 10 times:) .. anyway- thank you all!

**Injured**

**Chapter 11**

Robin ate, trying to focus on the fact that Allan would live. The man would live. He told himself that firmly in a desperate attempt to drive all other thoughts out of his brain. He knew that if he thought about the question that lingered under the surface of his thoughts, he would lose his appetite and Much would kill him. Already, he felt the worried glances that Much threw his way. At times it was uncanny how well his servant truly knew him.

Much already knew that Robin's mind had already moved onto the next problem. Much probably even knew what the problem was: that Allan would go for over a week without telling anyone he was injured, almost dying in the process. Robin had to know why- was it something he had done? Had he made a mistake in treating Allan? Or any of them? Were the people he considered his friends afraid of him or something? Were they all afraid to tell him what was wrong? Glancing around the campsite, he somehow knew it was only Allan that would've done this. But that didn't explain it- it didn't tell him _why._ And he did have to know- it was his duty as the leader of this group to be able to handle all situations. He couldn't do that if his men were withholding vital information.

He found himself trying to go over every encounter he ever had with Allan, despite his best effort to stay focused on the happy fact that Allan would live. Without realizing it, he gradually stopped eating, and stared into the fire. He had first met Allan when the man's hand was almost removed for poaching. As he stumbled upon the scene, there was never a doubt that he would stop the madness before him. He hesitated just enough for Much to set up the string before making his presence known. However, that hesitation had given him the opportunity to watch the man's desperate attempt to keep all his body parts, followed by the man's heartbreaking lack of faith in the justice system by agreeing to lose the finger. As Allan quietly admitted- "I won't win a trial- take the finger." Robin realized that something was horribly wrong with England. Honestly, he hadn't thought about Allan personally all that much. The man vanished into the woods the second Robin "convinced" the guards to let him go. Robin was soon confronted with bigger problems, like the arrest of Benedict and the Scarletts. Allan was soon forgotten.

Their next meeting had been somewhat strained. Robin was stressed and angry, and the realization that Allan wasn't quite the innocent peasant had only increased his disgust with the whole situation. Allan had been another burden at that point, another person who was relying on him to save their life, another body Robin couldn't guarantee he could save. Allan was more blood on his hands, blood he didn't want. At the hanging, Allan had made a clumsy attempt to get away, shooting Robin a desperate glance. But, Allan lacked something that even Will's dark look contained. Luke, Will and Benedict all looked surprised, as if they couldn't believe that they were going to die very soon- from hanging. Allan didn't look so surprised. He looked upset that he was about to die, of course- but it wasn't the same shocked disbelief that the other members carried. Allan looked as if he knew he would die this way eventually- he just didn't want it to be that day.

After the escape, Allan had simply followed Much and Robin into the woods, as did Will. It simply seemed natural- not even Much had demanded to know what the two were doing. The first words that Allan had spoken to Robin, not as a man begging for his life, or lying about his wife, but simply as Allan were: "Well, took your time with shooting us down, didn't you?" A smile flashed so quickly across Will's face Robin almost thought it never happened. Much looked scandalized and Robin had grinned as Allan continued. "I mean, the speech- nice touch and all- but really, nice time- shoot and then give the dramatic speech!"

"Next time I'm going to leave you there." By then they arrived at their camp ground and Allan had thrown down his stuff and settled in as if they had done this for years. He had looked up and thrown what Robin now knew as his signature grin. "Then my wife would come after you and mind you she's very cranky, being pregnant and all."

Robin had laughed, ignoring Will's confusion and Much's eye roll. Thus the group had been formed, with Robin as its leader. Robin continued to think of his actions with Allan and continued to come up with no reason as to why Allan wouldn't tell him. He sighed and abruptly remembered he was supposed to be eating.

'He's alive,' he thought firmly, trying to regain his appetite once more. He shoved a spoonful in his mouth, almost gagging. No, the appetite was gone. He glanced down at his bowl- he had gotten halfway done. He quickly peered over at Much, briefly considering dumping some onto the ground to avoid the scolding he was about to get. But at the same time he knew he couldn't waste food, not when it was so precious. Maybe he could pour it back into the pot? Or if John would take it? No, John had already fallen asleep, as had Will- was it really that late?

The bowl was suddenly lifted from his hands and Robin snapped his head up to see Much scowling at him.

"I'm full!" he explained, helplessly shrugging his shoulders.

"No," Much said, digging his own spoon into Robin's bowl. "You started thinking again."

"Sorry," Robin said, secretly enjoying the light banter that so commonly passed between Much and himself. It was a sign that things were going back to normal. Much being angry with him helped him forget his current problems with Allan.

"Sorry," Much grumbled to himself, still eating Robin's food. "I knew this would happen- you didn't even eat fast when you did have your appetite. Now you're stuck thinking again- which you always do, even when you can't change anything. I mean, Allan is going to live- and you can't even stop worrying long enough to just eat once decent meal. Life doesn't have to be this complicated…You do this to spite me, don't you? I cook and you don't eat any of it!- really-"

Robin didn't try to defend himself during Much's rant. The man was absolutely right: Robin really should be more relaxed- everything can be explained later. Instead, he settled back down into his blankets and let his servant's angry mumbles drone him to sleep.

* * *

Much's rant about Robin's eating habits continued for another minute. Then as the man realized Robin had fallen asleep, the rant changed to complain about master's who simply ignored good advice and rudely fell asleep. This continued while Much's finished eating the bowl and cleaning up. It became broken up with yawns and Much finally settled down and then it ceased as Much drifted to sleep.

John smiled to himself, listening. It was always so clear that Much and Robin had some special bond that no one outside of it could truly understand. John had been confused by it at first- They acted like friends, but Much still called Robin "master" without fail. Yet Much seemed to boss Robin around without thought and Robin obeyed just as quickly. But then Robin would suddenly order Much in earnest, rarely- but still sometimes. Much would of course obey, sometimes complaining, other times without a word. John never quite understood how certain things were decided, how the two men blended the line of master and servant so completely as to become friends, and yet to still know that the line existed and to also never get angry about it. He shrugged, it was just one of those mysteries that he would never comprehend.

He waited until he was sure everyone was completely asleep before slowly standing up. A big man like himself wasn't used to moving silently, but luckily everyone was so exhausted no one woke. He stumbled into the woods, acutely aware that he never mastered the stealth and ease with which the other outlaws moved through the forest, even though he may have lived in it the longest. He let out a sigh of relief as he judged he was too far away to be heard and could find plow through the woods as he liked.

He arrived at his destination and reveled to find that it was unchanged. No one knew his secret, no one knew his complete lack of faith. He shut his eyes, almost imagining the scene that would take place at this spot if Allan had died. His mind shuttered away from it at the last instant and he was left looking at his cruel work. He was ashamed of it now, ashamed that, despite everything, he still hadn't believe that Allan would live, he still had been sure the man would die- his lack of faith in Allan, in Djaq, in God was there- staring up at him. He had given up, he had broken: he had dug the grave.

At first he had just wanted to get away from Allan, get away from the look that shone on Will's face as he begged his friend to live, get away from the terrible waiting. He had walked into the woods, intent on simply walking, perhaps smashing a few dead trees. But instead his imagination took him to that moment when Allan would die, a moment that back them seemed imminent. His imagination didn't take him to the precise moment when Allan's breath failed, but instead to later than that. It had pictured Will frantically digging the grave himself, and refusing anyone's help until the young man simply collapsed, maybe in a faint, maybe in tears held back too long- but it always ended in Will breaking while digging the grave.

That's when the idea had struck. He could dig it now- saving everyone from that horrible task, saving Will from that horrible fate. His thoughts had reigned in sharply- how could he think such a thing? Allan was not dead, Allan would not die. He struggled to find the hope that he once had. Where was his faith in Allan? It had deserted him and he was left only with the faith that Will should not have to dig the grave. Finally, he accepted it- he was going to dig the grave. He was going to admit that Allan was as good as dead.

He had picked a nice spot, one that they didn't pass often- but one that was not far from some of their more usual camping spots. There was a nice break in the trees, there were even some flowers growing around it. It was a perfect spot, even the soil seemed easy to dig. And so he had begun, finding a wide piece of bark and slowly and surely digging into the ground. With everyone scoop, he confirmed the fact that Allan would die. He had finished, feeling a flash of guilt as he looked at what he had made. It was good- but it suddenly seemed wrong to dig a grave when the person was still alive. He had the urge to fill it up, but he quenched it. He had done it, it was over.

Now as he stared, he hated himself for digging it. He hated the hopelessness it represented, he hated its testament to his lack of faith, he simply hated it. He found the piece of bark he had used to dig it and set to work filling it back in.

He worked hard, patting the dirt down hard so hopefully even someone who passed wouldn't notice it. Imagine if Allan ever saw it, if Allan knew that John believed he would die, that John had dug his grave. Imagine if Djaq saw it, or Will or Robin- he cringed at the thought. He pounded the dirt in harder, intent on making the grave disappear. He finished quickly, filling it up was much easier than digging it. He even scattered leaves over top it to conceal the darker dirt that proved someone had been digging.

He leaned back and looked at it, nodding to himself. Allan was alive, he had filled up the hole. No one would ever know. As he turned back to camp, he suddenly smiled. Allan wasn't doomed to use his grave: just because he dug it did not mean that Allan died. It was packed, no one would use it. He pictured it, concealed, filled, just another piece of ground. He grinned- he suddenly felt free.

End Chapter 11.

Please review!


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** nope, i don't own anything and am not making any money either...

**Author's Note:** Here is the next chapter- I hope you all enjoy it, it's a bit different from the previous because there's basically more joy and talking and less deep angsty thoughts- if you don't like it- don't worry- the angst will return, I promise!

**Injured**

**Chapter 12**

"Do you want me to add them into the stew? Or will you give them to him separately?" Much asked, referring to the herbs that Djaq had decided might help Allan heal better.

"I'll give them to him alone," Djaq said. "No need to ruin the pot for everyone." Much looked again at the plant Djaq was currently grinding up- it did look foul.

"Especially since this is the last of our food," Much said, sighing into the stew, which was a bit thinner than usual. "No one's had time to hunt- I'll have to go and get some more from the market."

"Do we have enough money for that?" Djaq asked, looking up from her work. Much frowned, Robin handled all the money, keeping a very small percentage for the outlaws in case of emergency. He honestly couldn't say how much they had, or if in fact they had any. He turned back to Djaq and gestured to the still sleeping leader,

"Let's hope so. Otherwise we have to risk being caught for poaching again." Djaq nodded, Much shrugged- an unspoken acceptance of whatever happened. Normally, Much would have been gravely upset by any problem, especially one that may involve him not being able to eat enough, but at that moment it didn't seem so important. It was a pleasantly warm morning, with a cool breeze and Allan was going to live.

Unlike Will and Robin, Much and Djaq didn't have to worry about why Allan hadn't told them. Djaq had passed it off in her mind as some ignorant man thing to do. Much was fairly sure he knew Allan's reasoning behind his silence, but he also knew it wasn't his place to tell Robin, who was clearly upset over it. Instead, Allan would tell Robin and Robin would be offended and angry. Because the leader wouldn't understand, because it was one of those things that Much knew Robin couldn't understand. However, in the end, Robin would talk it out, Allan would feel embarrassed and the issue would be resolved. So until then, Much figured it wasn't worth worrying about. He and Djaq were free to simply be happy for their friend's life.

They had spent the morning enjoying the simple tasks they commonly performed. Djaq had excitedly explained to Much all the medicines she could give Allan now that he was awake and could swallow them. Much had listened and nodded at all the right places, recognizing none of the plants she named, but enjoying her happiness. He had set to work washing Allan's clothes thoroughly, only having to completely throw out the white one that had been completely ruined by blood. Somehow, even cleaning off bloody shirts was better when the person to whom the shirts belonged was currently sleeping peacefully beside you. Eventually, Djaq had dropped a hint that Allan would need to eat when he woke up and Much had obediently started making a soft stew that Allan could easily swallow.

Robin, John, and Will were still asleep. Robin was as close to the fire as he could get: the man was constantly cold. John kept himself well away from the main center of things so no one would trip over him. Will had fallen asleep next to Allan and Much knew that if Allan were to move in the slightest, Will would wake instantly.

Much marveled at the difference today held from yesterday. There was still an air of anticipation; still a waiting for Allan to truly wake up- but it was different. Yesterday it was all nervous energy, a silence that no one felt comfortable breaking, the dread of death thick in the air. Today there was an excitement in the air- it wasn't hopeful, it was certain. Allan would wake up and eat the stew and swallow the herbs, and he would get better.

He absentmindedly stirred the stew, watching as Robin woke, followed closely by John. John glanced around before shaking his head, rolling over and going back to sleep. On the rare days when everything was fine, John liked to sleep in. To Much's disappointment, Will stirred shortly after, and did not opt for going back to bed, but instead to resume his vigil over Allan, gazing at the man with those dark, serious eyes.

"Master?" Much asked, breaking Robin from his no doubt angry thoughts directed towards Allan. Much inwardly rolled his eyes- the man simply over-thought everything. Robin looked at him, raising an eyebrow in question.

"We need food," Much explained. "I thought I'd drop by the market and get some, since we can't really hunt right now."

"I'll hunt," Will offered, causing Much to jump. Much struggled to keep the confusion from his face- Will, the same man who had been watching Allan constantly, was offering to stalk off into the woods for the upwards of an hour and risk being caught for poaching. Much opened his mouth to ask why, but Robin was already talking.

"Too risky right now," Robin explained, reaching for his bag. "We don't have enough back-up to send with you if you were caught." Will looked like he was about to argue, but then thought the better of it and returned his gaze to Allan. It was then Much noticed that it wasn't the elated look he expected, it was sad, angry and hurt mixed into one. He was suddenly very glad he wasn't Allan.

"Here," Robin said, handing Much a small purse. "This is all we have- but if you discretely mention my name hopefully they won't charge you too much. In a few days we should be able to hunt again, so if anyone else needs it more than we do…" Robin shrugged. Much knew from experience that if he ever sent Robin to buy food, Robin would usually return with a meager about of food, that Much suspected people just gave him after the leader had given all their money away. The man simply didn't have the capability to say no to anyone.

Much nodded and started to grab his cloak when Robin next words stopped him cold.

"Oh, stop by Marian's- she'll want to know Allan's ok." Much slowly straightened up to find Robin wasn't even looking at him. The man was totally clueless about some things.

"Don't you think she'll want to hear that from you," Much suggested timidly, ignoring Djaq's snicker.

"Well, obviously I'll come by later," Robin said, turning back to Much. "But I have to stay here for now and you're already going to be there. Right?"

Much glanced at Djaq, and then back to Robin, who still looked utterly oblivious. He sighed- how did he always end up in the middle of these things?

"Right, master," he said, nodding. He checked to make sure he still had the purse and started to leave. Robin's hand on his shoulder made him turn again.

"Much," Robin said, glancing at Allan. Much saw the man swallow and instantly wondered what was wrong. "Be careful, ok?" Robin continued, looking for a moment terrified. Much saw the man start to say more and than stop himself, taking a deep breath.

"Don't worry, master," Much said, clapping Robin on the shoulder in return. "I'll be fine." Robin nodded shortly, his hand lingering on Much's shoulder for just a moment before dropping to his side. Much nodded back and headed into the woods.

He waited until he was fully in the woods, until he allowed a small smile to creep onto his face. Robin might say he never worried, but Much, who could still feel Robin's hand on his shoulder, who recognized the flash of worry in the man's eyes when any of the outlaws left his sight, who knew that some of the nightmares Robin had were not of just the Holy Land- Much knew that Robin worried, he knew that Robin was nervous, he knew that Robin cared.

* * *

Djaq rolled her eyes at Robin's stupidity, even as she smiled at his obvious concern for Much. The servant had bought food tons of times, he was a pro at blending in with the regular villagers, something that John and herself could never do. Robin wasn't particularly good at it either, enough people knew what he looked like now that he was recognized and even if they didn't quite know who he was, there was sometime about him that simply denied being a simple peasant. Robin was a leader, Robin was special, Robin was Robin.

Suddenly a groan from behind caused any further thought on shopping or villagers or Robin out of her head. She turned to see that Will was already leaning over the waking Allan, a firm hand on the man's shoulder. The man began to shift uncomfortably and Djaq placed another hand on his other shoulder.

"Allan," she said. "It's time for you to wake up." The man moaned again, but obediently opened his blue eyes, squinting up at her. The man opened his mouth to say something and broke into coughs instead. Djaq turned to tell John to get water, only to find Robin already holding a cup for her. She spared him a smile and held the cup in Allan's line of vision.

"You're probably thirsty," Allan's weak nod answered her statement. "Here drink this- slowly!" She gentled held the cup to his mouth and was secretly pleased to see Allan ignore the slowly part of her command and greedily gulp the water down. He stopped quickly, panting and she sent him a stern 'I told you so' look. He attempted to grin but she placed the cups to his lips again and he decided to drink instead, a bit slower than before.

"You want some stew?" she asked, not really caring to hear his answer- he was going to eat whether he liked it or not.

"Tha's ok," he said softly, his eyes beginning to slide closed once more. "You can jus' let Will hav' it 'r somethin'," Djaq felt Will stiffen beside her and she knew he was reminded of what his mother must've said when she was dying. However, she sensed him shrug it off and dismiss it as Allan being very out of it.

"Look," Djaq said firmly. "You are eating this, Allan. It's going to help you get your strength back- so you are going to eat it, understand?"

Allan's meek nod answered her. Djaq spooned in the smallest amount of soup into her spoon and slowly poured it down Allan's throat. To her relief, he swallowed it easily, neither choking nor gagging on it. Confidence boosted, she quickly spooned more. She continued this for a while, purposefully ignoring the look in Allan's eyes that said he wanted to stop and talk and persistently placing the next spoonful on his lips. After half a bowl of this, Allan's eyes started to slide close between each bite and she put the bowl down.

Opening his eyes, Allan grinned his relief, aware that the next bite had not come.

"Done then?" he asked, not waiting for an answer. "Excellent." The man nodded and started to fall back asleep.

"Not so fast," Djaq said, returning with the herbs she had mashed together. "You have to eat this too."

Allan opened his eyes and glanced at the mash she had placed on the spoon.

"You know wha'," he said. "I think I'm good- really. Feel loads better actually." Djaq frowned at him, but he turned his gaze away from her and towards Will.

"Will agrees wi' me," he said. "Don't you, Will?" Will didn't answer, a smile tugging at his lips for the first time in days.

"Allan," Robin spoke for the first time. Djaq didn't think she was the only one who noticed Allan's grin drop instantly or the way he carefully looked down, avoiding Robin's gaze. "You're eating it," Robin said. Allan sighed,

"Right." Glancing once more at the spoon Djaq held, he closed his eyes and opened his mouth. Djaq shoved the spoon in quickly, trying to get it down as fast as possible- it tasted even worse than it looked. Allan gagged, swallowing and swearing at the same time. He groaned and Djaq was worried his pulled some of his stitches. She instantly felt guilty for forcing it down there, but Robin's steadying hand on her shoulder reminded her that it was necessary.

"Tha'," Allan said, eyes still tightly shut. "Was nasty. Not bein' funny- but if you think I'm eatin' tha' again- you're crazy." Djaq smirked at Robin who grinned back. Allan continued talking as he fell asleep.

"'Cause I'm not," he said, his words growing fainter. "You can't make me… I refuse. Foul stuff- witchcraft, I say. Not… eatin' it." Finally Allan faded back into sleep. Djaq smiled at the other outlaws- Allan was going to be just fine.

End Chapter 12.

* * *

Please review!!


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: **Not the show- but as of Tuesday, June 5th- I'm gonna own the DVD!! Does that count??

**Author's Note **Thanks for all reviews! Hope you like this next bit:)

Next chapter will either be up before Monday or after Friday- because I'm going away Tuesday-Thursday... right now I am hoping to get another up by monday!

**Injured**

**Chapter 13**

Marian stole another glance outside her window, tapping her fingers against the arm of her chair. It had been a day- a whole day!- and there was still no news to her on how Allan was doing. She didn't know if he was alive or barely alive or dead or dying or anything! She had helped stitch him up- surely she had a right to know! She had suffered through acting as though nothing was wrong all yesterday, pleasantly talking to her father, smiling at Guy when he came to visit. She couldn't do it for a second day.

She had briefly considered sneaking out the night before and going to find out herself, but when the time came to silently crawl out the window she had discovered she couldn't do it. The same force that stopped her from comforting Robin stopped her from heading to the outlaw's camp. She didn't belong there.

Maybe she would enter and nothing would've changed. Allan would still be hanging somewhere between life and death and that same eerie silence would still be over the other men. Maybe Robin would greet her quietly, his eyes not focused on her at all. What would she do? She would sit awkwardly, unable to help, perhaps only increasing the tension. And what if he had awoken, what if throughout the entire camp there was that state of euphoria, of simple joy. She couldn't interrupt that- Robin would be happy to see her, she didn't doubt- but he would want to be with his outlaws. They would be celebrating wildly and she would smile and stand awkwardly to the side, unable to fully participate.

And what if the worst had happened- what if he had died? What if stupid little Marian stumbled onto the scene, innocently, foolishly hoping that he was still alive to find him dead, to find all of them trying to cope. What would she do? Offer her fake condolences to all of them, when she didn't even know Allan? She would cry, not for Allan, but because Robin had to handle this. And then that would tear Robin away from the mourning he needed to do in order to handle her tears, which might as well be fake anyway. She couldn't go to the camp.

So instead she had waited at home, at times regretting her decision as the hours dragged on with no word. She had performed menial tasks throughout the day, hiding the fact that whenever she tried needlepoint she saw not string, but a man's skin, or whenever she closed her eyes she saw Robin sitting against the tree, shaking. To her father, she had dismissed her nervous twitches and pale face as excitement. Though of course when asked what she was excited about she had tried to act coy and secretive. So now she eventually had to plan some surprise for her father! Look at this mess Robin had gotten her into!

Robin- God she needed to see him. She needed to see him smiling at her, focused on her, calm, confident, alive, okay. She needed to know that he had made it through last night, that he could still be the Robin she knew and loved. But most of all, she needed to know that he still needed her, that he still wanted her, that he still loved her. In a disgustingly selfish way, she needed him to be with her right now. It was a terrible thing to want, she knew that, but she couldn't help it- that was how she felt.

She quickly wiped off her unhappy face and plastered on a smile as she heard Kerry enter the room. She went back to trying to sew, trying to pretend she was deeply concentrated.

"My lady," Kerry spoke from in front of her. Marian looked up to see her serving woman lean in closely to her. "There's a man- says he needs to talk to you in the stable."

Marian felt her heart squeeze. She shot up out of her chair, grinning at Kerry who attempted to smile innocently back. Giving the other woman a squeeze on the arm, she swept out of the room.

Her steps quickened as she exited her house- she would finally know what she had been worried about all day. Robin had finally come to her to tell her the news. She entered the stable, excited and worried at once to find-

Much. Disappointment hit her like a wave crashing down. Robin hadn't come- he had sent his servant instead. Despite herself, her face fell, her heart seemed to plummet downwards, suddenly she felt faint- he hadn't come. He hadn't come- he didn't need her like she needed him. He was with his outlaws and she was here and He. hadn't. come.

She tried to pull herself together as Much politely bowed. He was just with his outlaws, it didn't mean anything that he had sent Much to tell her, it all just made logical sense. Taking a deep breath, she tried to compose herself- she was stronger than this. She wasn't some girl to cry over some silly, stupid man! She forced a polite smile to come to her face, forced herself to rapidly blink away tears that had formed while she was unaware, forced herself to take a deep breath.

She saw Much swift awkwardly as she composed herself. The man had taken off his usual cap and was twisting it in his hands, looking as uncomfortable as she felt. He glanced up at her and swallowed uncertainly before finally speaking.

"He wanted to come," Much said quickly. She then knew she had failed miserably in her attempt to pretend she didn't care. She tried to smile, and say something- anything, but Much continued to speak, carefully avoiding looking at her. "Robin- I mean. He said he'd come by later, obviously- but right now he has to stay with Allan and well, yes- you know."

Marian's eyes suddenly widened for an altogether different reason. She realized abruptly that she still didn't know what happened to Allan! She had been so caught up in her disappointment at Robin's absence that she had forgotten to ask. Much seemed to realize the same thing.

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "He's fine- well not fine, last I saw he was still asleep- but he did wake up- last night… just for a moment really- but Djaq said that the fever broke so he should wake up again. So Robin had to be there for that- that's why he couldn't come- but he wanted you to know."

"Thanks," Marian said, relieved that Allan was alive. She smiled, imagining how happy the other outlaws who had last night seemed so petrified must be. She could picture them clearly in her mind, the people that until last night she hadn't know, hadn't considered important, hadn't cared about. She pictured Robin with them, happy without her, grinning a smile that she desperately wanted for herself, sharing that bond with them that she no longer had with him. Her smile dropped slowly from her face and she felt as alone as she had when he was at the war. Meanwhile, Much had barely paused in his ramble,

"See," Much said, gesturing outside. "I had to get food anyway because we can't hunt and Robin couldn't go because he had to stay with Allan, but then Will couldn't go because- well, he and Allan always go together and then Djaq and John stick out too much so that left me. But Robin would've liked to." Marian saw Much force himself to stop and heard him mutter. "I would've liked him to as well."

"Do you want to grab some food out of my stores?" she said politely, pulling a smile to her lips and trying to ignore the awkward silence that settled around Much and herself.

"Oh no," Much said quickly, as keen as her to avoid any silence. "I wasn't implying- You don't- we have money. We don't need any of yours- I just dropped by to tell you Allan's going to be fine… and now I have- so…"

"Thank you, Much," Marian said, smiling broader and trying to make the best of the situation, feeling just as sorry for Much as for herself. What a situation Robin had put them in. And yet, she knew that she and Much had to be able to get along. There was no Robin without Much. She had to get closer to Much- but she had no idea how to do that.

"My lady," Much said and something in his voice drew Marian to look at him closely. "I also wanted to apologize."

Marian stared at him, confused and Much continued "For what I said- when Robin was captured. It was… rude of me- I'm sorry."

Marian's thoughts drifted back to when a different Much had stood before her. The Much she saw now was awkward, unsure and extremely polite amidst his ramblings. The Much she saw now was a simple man, a messenger, a servant. But the Much she remembered was someone different entirely. He was strong, he was angry and he was sure. There was no doubt what he had to do and he planned to do it without or without her help. He was no longer a servant, he was a soldier, he was a commander, he was a leader. He was going to risk everything for Robin and somehow, when he stood before her- even as the wash of disappointment hit him when she declined to help, she never doubted that he was going to get Robin out- or die trying.

She hadn't been surprised when he had burst into the room, thus ending her own attempt to help Robin escape. Looking back, she realized that this was just further evidence that Robin no longer needed her. He no longer required her to come up with a plan to save him, he had Much. He had Much to come rescue him, Much to keep him out of trouble, Much to talk and laugh with.

She couldn't blame Much for his loyalty- Robin was one of those men who simply seemed to inspire it in others. He had turned fierce outlaws to his side, from what she gathered Allan had not been the most-law abiding man either- yet he fought with Robin now, even a Saracen, who had the highest reason to hate Robin, had joined the man's gang.

"There's nothing to be sorry for Much," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "You were just worried about Robin."

"Yes, well- it still wasn't my place, insulting you like that- It was wrong," Much persisted firmly. Marian smiled at the irony of it all. Robin preached equality in all men- had given up his life for it- and yet Much, his closest friend, his dearest ally, still believed that it wasn't his place to talk back to her, even when he was completely right. Loyalty ran so deep in his veins that it was impossible for him to truly be free, even though that is what Robin wanted for him. You could give Much Bonchurch or Nottingham or all of England and he would still remain what he was at the center of his being- Robin's man.

"Really, Much," she said gently. "You were right."

"No I wasn't," Much said, allowing himself no slack. "I said terrible things that weren't true. You did go help him- you were there when I came in. You didn't leave him to die like I accused you of."

"Well you didn't know any better when you spoke to me," Marian said, beginning to get a bit exasperated. She shouldn't have to forgive Much a fault that wasn't truly his. For an instant she wondered if this is what Robin felt like when Much got things like this into his head.

"Please," Much said, looking straight at her. "I would just feel better about the whole situation if you could just say you forgave me!" Marian smiled, laughing to herself at Much's distress.

"I forgive you," she said, giving in to Much's view on himself. She opened her mouth to add that there was nothing to forgive, when Much held up a hand, stopping her.

"Say no more!" he said dramatically. "That's all I want to hear!" She closed her mouth, glaring at him. For a moment Much grinned back and she felt herself smile in return. In that moment she understood why Robin and Much were so close, the man had some endearing quality that snuck up on you when you least suspected it.

Then Much cleared his throat and the moment ended as soon as it had started. Suddenly once again they were the awkward messenger and the love struck noble. Suddenly she recalled that Robin wasn't hers, that this man now held more of the man she loved than she did. Much nodded at her and turned, starting to walk away.

"You two are very close," she said, shocking herself. It wasn't a question, it was a statement. Much froze and she suddenly realized she had hit the underlying reason for the unease that surrounded them. It was the reason she and Much would never be able to be close, the reason every time she saw Much she felt that stab of jealousy, the reason Much tended to never meet her eye even when they spoke. They both knew that in a way the other held a part of Robin they could never have.

Much slowly turned, and Marian realized abruptly that tears had flooded her eyes. She blinked rapidly, but didn't look away from Much. She didn't know what she wanted him to say, couldn't tell if she wanted him to leave and ignore it or stay. She just stood there, hurt and confused.

"Yes," Much said quietly, bobbing his head. He took a breath and slowly, truly looked at her. His eyes glanced up and down in a way that if any other man did it would have been offensive. For an instant, she saw her own pain reflected in Much's eyes, even as he smiled a small, accepting smile.

"But I'm not you," he said softly. His head titled slightly and he blinked, staring at her a moment more.

"And I'm not you," she replied just as gently. She met Much's gaze and their eyes locked in a mutual understanding of something she couldn't name. Much nodded as if they had reached some grave decision and then turned and walked away.

She stood there, continuing to stare at the spot where Much had just stood. A feeling of happiness washed over her and she was able to smile and wipe away her tears. She wouldn't loose Robin to Much, she would not be left alone. She accepted Robin as he was, accepted that Much would always have a piece of Robin, accepted that Robin could love her and Much at the same time- she accepted all of it. She took a deep breath, feeling confident, feeling at ease. Maybe some days she would again feel jealous of Much, maybe sometime in the future she would be angry, maybe at times she would be hurt- but as of right then, Much had given her just the confirmation she needed. Much had stopped her worrying, had driven away her doubts, Much had managed to reassure her with four simple words that she would always carry with her. She slowly returned to the house, smile never leaving her face- she was going to be fine.

End Chapter 13.

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Leave a review! (after 13 chapters I'm still begging... :) ) 


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** Same as always..

**Author's Note:** A short funny bit about this chapter. Looking back on Injured now, I realize that the climax of the story is probably Allan almost dying- but really the whole story started out at this chapter. It was my first idea (well besides perhaps Reminders) and originally it was just going to be some one-shot introspect on Allan. Then of course, I had to have a reason for this conversation, and so I decided he would get injured. Then I decided that it would be interesting to have him almost die and have everyone's reactions, and then ideas like Robin shaking and Much/Marian kinda just came and thus this whole long story was born. But really, I think it's funny looking back because this scene was the whole reason for this story and now I finally get to actually write it!

Anyway, sorry for the ramble I'm in a talkative mood and I thought that that was funny... Ok- here's the thing you really want: 

**Injured**

**Chapter 14**

It had been a week. A week since Allan collapsed, a week since Djaq stitched him back together, a week since he almost died. It didn't seem like a week, in some ways nothing had changed. Time hadn't washed away Robin's anger or Will's hurt, if anything it had intensified as the week drew on. As Allan slowly became healthier, as the feeling of relief gradually dimmed every time Allan woke up, as the man began to stay awake for longer and longer stints, Robin and Will seemed to get angrier. The euphoria of Allan living faded and both men found that they had someone healthy to be mad at, someone who no longer needed their constant care, someone who no longer could hide behind his sickness. Allan was back- and now he had to deal with Robin and Will.

This increasing tension was not unnoticed by the man in question. Allan had become quieter as he got better, contrary to what one might have thought. He was still loud enough in protesting eating Djaq's herbs, or begging for more food, but where he once would have filled the silence with stories or jokes, he seemed content to stay silent and carefully avoid Robin's eyes. In the corner of his mind he still held the fading hope that perhaps Robin could simply ignore the issue.

Robin, currently sitting under the protection of a tree from the afternoon heat, knew that he couldn't leave this. It continued to control his thoughts- Allan hadn't told him. Allan hadn't told anyone. Allan could've died and Robin couldn't accept that. He had tried to come up with reasons, but none of them really made any sense and even if they did- for once, Allan had to tell him the truth.

Robin was dying to get Allan to talk, and only Much's warning glares had kept him from pouncing on the man 3 days ago. But Much wasn't stopping him today- It had been a week, it had been long enough- today he would find out. Today was the day he would find out why a man he trusted with his life apparently didn't trust Robin's with his.

He started over to where Allan was currently stretched out, back gingerly propped against a tree. Allan continued to keep his eyes closed, though he must've heard Robin coming.

"Allan," Robin said in his best authority tone. His saw the man slowly open his eyes and look up. For an instant Robin saw Allan begin to form some kind of innocent look before giving up quickly. "Let's go," Robin said, jerking his head to indicate the woods. There were no questions from Djaq or John, no worrying from Much, and no jokes from Allan. The man simply got up slowly, carefully stretched, wincing slightly as something pulled on his back, and then waited for Robin to lead the way.

Robin kept the meeting spot fairly close to camp, not wanting Allan to tire himself out getting there. It was out of earshot, more open and had some good trees to prop up on. He settled himself in, watched as Allan eased himself down, and then looked at Allan. He didn't bother stating the question- Allan knew what he was asking.

"Look, I didn't think they were such a big deal," Allan said, shrugging his shoulders. "Figured they'd just heal on their own."

Robin felt anger rise up in him and focused it into a glare that he sent straight at Allan. He saw the man stop mid-protest and go silent. Allan didn't continue right away and Robin didn't press him- he had all the time in the world for this.

* * *

Allan bit back a sigh as his first answer was rejected. In a way it was true- he had been whipped plenty of times. But it wasn't the truth- he knew that usually he at least had a shirt on and that it had never been that bad. He realized that he couldn't sweet talk his way out of this one- he had to actually _talk_. A mumbled "I don't know," would be answered with another glare. Robin wasn't going to take any lies this time- and that's what that statement would be- because Allan did know why he hadn't told anyone. He knew exactly why he hadn't told anyone- he just didn't know how to explain it.

How did he explain that he couldn't leave this gang? How did he tell Robin that the moment he left he would return to being some poor struggling peasant barely able to find enough money to eat? How did he explain that being an outlaw was the only skill he had, and this was the only way he could at least do it with some semblance of honor? How did he make it clear that he dreaded the day when this would end, that he lived in terror of the day when King Richard would return, that he couldn't leave this gang because when it was over- he had absolutely nothing waiting for him? He didn't have Marian or Bonchurch or a child or a family or a homeland to return to. In the end, Allan a' Dale was just some common thief who did what he had to survive every day.

"I've been in gangs before," he finally said quietly, grabbing a piece of grass and twirling it. God, that was the understatement of the century. He had been in gangs since he knew how to talk, he had been stealing since he was old enough to realize you needed money to buy food, he had been an outlaw since before he remembered. His childhood was put together of tiny memories of being in gangs. Some were good, running the streets of a city with a pack of other young boys, feeling free and wild and almost happy. But most, most were bad- feeling so hungry he was close to fainting, dragging a cold corpse outside of the city and leaving his once comrade there unburied, shivering under a thin blanket, desperately trying to keep his younger brother warm.

When he was a kid gangs were a source of somewhat stability, a kind of family he stubbornly hung onto, regardless of whether or not they deserved his loyalty. As he had grown he had learned, slowly and painfully, that you could only rely on yourself. The gangs of his teenage years had been quick, short lived alliances- joined more from necessity than from any real connection. When he was doing good he shared his extra so that when winter came he had food to eat. Gangs were simply safer than being on his own, but he didn't count on them, he didn't trust anyone in them. The other teens around him were usually sullen, quiet and Allan had learned that he hated silence. Silence gave him the opportunity to think on his current situation, to ponder his actions, to feel some guilt and on the rare occasions- fear for the future. He had come up with a simple solution- fill the silence, don't think and pretend that everything is perfect.

So Allan had grown up- loud, out of control, lying as easily as breathing, stealing as naturally as eating. Eventually he had left the city gangs, perhaps hurt one to many times as the list of people who left him grew to include even his own brother. Allan didn't let himself think about Tom, didn't let himself think about the winters he had struggled through, intent on keeping Tom alive. Instead he grinned, he forgave Tom when they happened to meet, and when Tom left him again, he had gotten back on his own two feet and joked about it to himself. In his heart, he knew that he would forgive Tom every time just to feel for that brief instant that someone cared, that someone understood.

Allan realized abruptly that he was staring at the piece of grass he was holding and hadn't spoken in a while. Robin wasn't rushing him, but he felt he had to try to explain this somehow.

"I mean," he began, looking up and trying to focus. "Not like this one- they were different- nothing like this one." There was a long pause where he waited for Robin to say something. He took a deep breath as he realized Robin was not going to help him out- he was going to have to say it. Having spent his whole life talking while saying nothing, he suddenly wished that Robin would just punch him or something and this could be over.

"In those ones," he paused again and focused on the piece of grass once more. His voice dropped as he continued. "In those ones- if… well if you fell behind- you- you got left behind."

God, it sounded stupid spoken out loud- but there it was. That was why he didn't tell anyone. That dumb little childish fear of being left behind had nearly killed him. Suddenly he wished he could take it back- surely there must be some reason that didn't sound so utterly stupid. He opened his mouth to try an explain more- make it sound less dumb, but as he did his throat seemed to close and he realized there was nothing to add.

That was the truth. That's how it used to be. He had been left- he had left others. When he had broken his leg and could no longer run around the city picking pockets, his gang had simply nodded a goodbye and left him there. Only his younger brother's skill had kept them alive. The last time he saw his brother he had been bleeding from an arm wound, fallen asleep and woken up alone and with nothing. When his one-time best friend had lost a hand to an angry butcher, Allan had followed as the current leader ordered everyone to move. He was ashamed now- but back then it made sense. If you weren't useful, you weren't welcome. If you couldn't contribute, you didn't get to hang around.

And so, when he had been injured, he hadn't told anyone. Because if he did they would leave him and he would go back to being the worthless thief he was. He couldn't leave this gang and so he couldn't tell anyone.

"You thought," Robin said suddenly, shocking Allan out of his thoughts. "that I would leave you behind after you were hurt during an operation that was my idea." Robin spoke slowly, even calmly but Allan flinched anyway. It sounded even worse in Robin's disbelieving tone. Robin went silent, obviously trying to make sense of it and Allan quickly filled in.

"Well, it doesn't make much sense now, I suppose," he supplied, fidgeting awkwardly.

"Allan! It doesn't make _any_ sense!" Robin cried, standing up. Allan flushed, feeling even more mortified.

"Look, I was in a lot of pain!" he protested. "Wasn't thinking right!"

Robin suddenly stopped his angry pacing and looked down at Allan, eyes full of concern.

"But you understand, right?" Robin said and Allan shifted, embarrassed. "I mean- you know that I would never- if it happens again you would tell, right?"

"I would," Allan said, nodding. He felt awful, looking back on it, to think that about Robin, to believe that everyone would just leave him. "I know that now- I do- I was just……" He struggled to find the words. He didn't want to tell Robin that he hadn't been sure, that he had been terrified.

"Confused," Robin supplied, even though both of them knew that wasn't the truth. Allan felt a wave of thankfulness that Robin hadn't forced him to continue.

"Right," he said, nodding. Robin stared at him a moment longer, holding his gaze as if making sure that Allan truly understood. Allan silently prayed that this could be over and was rewarded when Robin's hand was suddenly in his face.

"Well, let's go back," Robin said in a resigned voice, as if he knew he would get no more out of Allan, and Allan took the offered hand. Robin pulled him to his feet and for once Allan was content to let the silence continue as he saw Robin analyzing their recent conversation once more. As for himself, he didn't want to analyze their conversation; he wanted to pretend it never happened.

End Chapter 14.

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I'll be away until Thursday night- but don't think that means you don't have to review:)


	15. Chapter 15

Well, for the last time- I don't own Robin Hood!

Now, i tend to get a little sentimental when posting the last chapter of a long fic- so really- don't mind me.  
Most importantly- I would like to thank everyone who has read this from the beginning or come in half-way through or even as recently as the last chapter! All your comments meant so much to me- what can I say? You make a writer feel loved!

Now I had this list out and I was going to mention everyone's name but then I was terrified I would forget someone and they would be offended- so I decided against saying names- I think you all know who you are- I love you guys!

Ok, here's the chapter- I have lots more notes at the end!

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**Injured**

**Chapter 15**

Much struggled not to roll his eyes as Robin and Allan returned from their talk and Robin immediately called for a hunting party. Seeing Allan's embarrassed face that held hints of annoyance and Robin's glower, Much could almost tell exactly what had gone on. Allan had given his reason, Robin hadn't understood what Allan really meant and now both men were unhappy.

Perhaps sensing their leader's mood, everyone readily agreed to go hunting except Will, who opted to stay behind with Allan. Robin quickly told John and Djaq to go one way, and strode off quickly in the other direction, leaving Much to follow. Much did of course- he always followed.

They held up the pretense of hunting for perhaps 10 minutes, before it become obvious that with Robin stomping around the forest they were scaring away any game that might be there. Much prayed that John and Djaq managed to have better luck than they were going to have- he was getting sick of vegetables. Never the less, Much silently followed Robin, pretended to hunt, said nothing when Robin scared away at least three deer and was not surprised when Robin suddenly threw down his bow.

"It doesn't make sense, Much!" Robin exclaimed, spinning around. "I mean- the whole reasoning… it's off! I don't want to say it's stupid but really- It just doesn't make any sense!" Robin paused to take a breath and Much interjected his words while he had the chance.

"It doesn't make any sense to _you_," Much stated calmly, bending down to pick up Robin's bow. The man was always so careless with the thing- one day it was going to break and then he would be upset.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Robin asked, focusing his glare on Much. Robin's glare didn't seem to affect his servant at all, who simply continued wiping mud off his bow. Much made Robin wait a moment longer before sighing and looking up.

"I mean," Much continued. "That just because it doesn't make sense to you- doesn't mean it doesn't make _any_ sense."

"Why would it make sense to someone else and not me?!" Robin cried, sweeping his arms out in the questioning manner he always did.

'Because you wouldn't get it,' Much thought to himself. 'Because no matter how poor you get, or whether you're an outlaw or a noble, or whether you're alone or surrounded by people- you will never, _never_ understand what it means to truly follow.'

Robin had always been a leader- Much sensed that the moment he met the man. He never looked natural when he had to bow to a superior- he had looked even more awkward when he had to kneel to the king. As a teenager, Much had seen Robin tell a grown man what to do and see that order followed without question. His master had some kind of quality that forced people to obey him- well he supposed forced was the wrong word- Robin made people _want _to obey him. Even when he was under the direct command of the king, Robin never followed blindly. He thought over orders, sometimes to an almost treasonous extent. It was lucky that Robin always managed to be right, because otherwise he would have probably been hung. Robin had changed battle plans on nothing more than a hunch, never bothering to consult Richard on these things. It simply worked out that Richard either never noticed, or recognized Robin as a good leader and left the younger man to it. It got to the point that Richard didn't even really command Robin anymore- simply suggested what he wanted done and counted that Robin would see to it. Despite this unspoken agreement between the two men, there had been times when Much thought he was going to have to fight the king's guard just to keep Robin from being killed at Richard's order during one of their arguments.

Though Robin was as kind and open and empathetic as any man Much knew, his master would never be able to truly understand how the rest of the world felt. He would never quite grasp that other people weren't as confident as he usually was, that they didn't think like he did, that other people weren't sure where they stood. He would never know what it felt like to trust someone else to tell him what to do, to depend on another to make the important decisions, to know that following a leader was the right thing to do. And because he would never know that, Robin would never know the relief that you finally had someone good to follow, the knowledge that you could trust your leader to have you do the right thing, and also the underlying fear that one day he would decide you weren't good enough and leave you right back where you started.

But Much didn't say any of that- maybe because he knew Robin still wouldn't understand, or maybe because he knew it would just make Robin more confused and angry or maybe because he felt Robin didn't need to know all of it. Instead, he shrugged, throwing Robin an innocent "I don't know" look.

Robin growled under his breath and looked away from Much, out towards the forest. Much saw him thinking over the conversation once more and continue to come up with nothing.

"It's just- the whole mission was my idea!" Robin said, coming back to try and talk it out with Much as he commonly did. "Why would he think that I would just leav-"

Suddenly Robin cut off and turned a shocked face to Much.

"Hey!" Robin declared, planting his fists on his hips. "How do you know what reason I'm even talking about! I never told you what he said."

"And I don't think you should," Much interrupted. That conversation was between Robin and Allan- he didn't want to be a part of it. Though he knew the basic idea behind it- the specifics that Allan had spoken and the exact words were something private. Robin nodded his agreement before pushing once more.

"Well, still- how do you know anything about it then?"

It was Much's turn to look away from Robin and into the surrounding woods. How did he know?

The answer was simple- he'd been there. They had been in the Holy Land for a little over a year and Much, though had previously taken minor injuries- had been slashed quite badly by an enemy sword. He had been wounded, seriously so- and had made the same decision Allan had. He hadn't told Robin, instead he had helped Robin clean up and had made sure Robin was fine before sneaking off to the medical tent and getting stitched up. He had refused to slow down over the next few days for fear that Robin would notice. But in the end, he healed fine, Robin never knew, and he had avoided the conversation Allan had been forced into. Much was almost glad to have been injured in a war where no one would notice rather than a small group where all attention would be on him.

If he was injured now, he was sure he would tell Robin- but back then their relationship hadn't been as strong. But of course saying this would also hurt Robin, so instead he looked up and fixed a carefree grin on his master.

"Lucky guess," he declared, putting placing the bow back in Robin's hands. Much nodded and it was his turn to walk away. He felt Robin frowning into his back and sensed Robin shrug and give up. He continued to walk away and left Robin to follow. Robin did of course- he always followed.

"Hey!" Robin called. "Wait up!" Much did roll his eyes this time- Robin would follow- but not for long.

* * *

Allan gently lowered himself to the ground, the slight pulling on his back only serving to increase his general state of unhappiness. As much as he tried not to think about the conversation that had occurred between Robin and himself, it would not leave his mind. And the more he thought about it- the more he hated it. 

He wasn't quite angry with Robin for forcing the issue- in a way he knew why it needed to be said. But he still hated how embarrassed it made him feel, how weak it made him seem. In other gangs, if you did something wrong you got a quick beating and then it was done. You might hate it while you were taking the punches and kicks and maybe for a few days after, but at least when it was done, it was truly done. You didn't have to spend your whole life regretting it or re-playing it in your head.

All he wanted to do was go to sleep and just wake up and pretend it never happened. In truth, he wasn't even paying attention to the young man who sat across from him. He was just going to lie down and wake up at a much later time. But just as he was about to go through the task of getting himself all stretched out without causing too much pain to his still-stitched back, a quiet voice stopped him.

"So?" Will asked, looking not at Allan, but at his hands which were idly whittling. The man was _always_ whittling.

"So what?" Allan asked, bewildered. Will's head snapped up looking at Allan as if he had 5 heads. Allan raised an eyebrow, honestly confused as to what was happening. He still wasn't used to having to be aware of others feelings quite yet- having friends in general was still a new concept.

"You didn't tell me," Will said, glaring. Allan blinked uncomprehendingly before he realized that Will wanted an explanation too!

For a moment he felt the anger and annoyance rise in his chest. Will wasn't the leader of this group- he didn't have a right to know- he had no right to ask! He looked down, making a feeble attempt to calm himself, when he was really just fueling his anger. He was exhausted, he didn't want to even see Will, he wished he hadn't told Robin, he just wanted to be alone. God, did everyone have to know everything in this stupid gang! He took a breath, intent on telling Will to sod off and just leave him alone. He had almost started speaking when he looked up and meet Will's eyes.

He felt his anger plunge into nothing, his mouth seemed to go dry to keep himself from speaking, for a moment he stared- shocked. He looked away again, not wanting to see those eyes, feeling guilty and ashamed. He could've been fine, he could've yelled right back, he could've unleashed his temper. He could've done all of those things very easily- if Will was angry. If Will was angry, Allan could've been angry right back. If Will was angry Allan would've known what to do- and that was to yell or punch before the other person got the chance to yell or punch at you. It would've been fine- if Will was angry.

But he wasn't. As Allan had truly looked at his friend, he had seen something unfamiliar in those eyes, something that he almost didn't recognize, something he never thought himself worthy of causing. Will was hurt. The glare that Allan had caught had faded into some look of disbelieving hurt. Allan struggled to wrap his mind around what was going on. He meant enough to the carpenter that Will was _hurt_ when he didn't tell the other man he had been injured. It didn't make any sense- Allan didn't mean that much to anybody. In his world, people rarely cared that much about their own _family_. He didn't deserve that- Will should be angry- not hurt.

"I lied before," he said suddenly, surprising himself. He was half-trying to convince Will that he wasn't worth getting upset about, half-beginning to explain. That didn't make sense either- just a moment ago he had vowed to never tell anyone anything again and now here he was talking almost as if he wanted to. He snapped his mouth shut and carefully looked up.

It was no good- Will was still looking at him with that face. The only difference in it was now it held a touch of curiosity. He was going to have to finish what he started and try to explain it a little. He looked out into the forest, and then down and then finally setting for where the fire would be flickering if there was a fire.

"When I told- when I said my father was a blacksmith," he finally continued. A part of him was crying for him to shut up, was reminding him that he always said his father was a blacksmith- it was part of the character he played. The fun, invincible Allan a' Dale had a father- and he was a blacksmith. But more of him couldn't stand to see the look on Will's face, and would tell anything to make it go away.

"That was a lie," he repeated without really realizing it. "I don't know if he was a blacksmith- I don't even know who he was. My mom didn't even know who he was. Hard to tell, I suppose, when you're shagging every-"

He cut off quickly- that was further than he meant to go. He didn't look at Will, not wanting to see what Will thought of this new information. Instead he fumbled for the words to express what he was trying to say.

"The point is," he said firmly. "I never had, well- I mean, you've got parents and a brother- well I actually have one of those- a half I suppose, but what I mean is… I guess I'm just not used to it," He finished lamely.

He glanced at Will to see the look was still there, perhaps it was fading slightly and it was rapidly tinting with what he thought was confusion- but he couldn't tell. He couldn't think of anything more to say. What would other people do at this point? Suddenly he had it- it even seemed simple- apologize. That should've been easy and he told himself firmly he could do it.

The only problem was- he hadn't ever done it before. Oh, sure- he had said the words before- he said them all the time, usually grinning as he did. But he had never meant it, he had never needed the other person to _know_ that he meant it. He had never had a friend who he needed to apologize to- if he was being honest, he had never really had a friend this close before. For a moment, he was terrified- friends were just another thing that you could easily loose- but he brought his mind back to the problem at hand. Saying sorry- apologizing. He tried to think of some fancy words to say, something that would let Will know he really meant it- but came up with nothing.

Finally he took a deep breath, and looked up at Will, meeting his friend's eyes.

"Look, Will," he said, trying not to feel as if he were about to jump off a cliff. "I'm sorry."

"ALLAN!" Djaq's voice seemed to come from nowhere and Allan jumped, breaking eye contact with Will. To his surprise, Djaq and John were already at the far end of the camp.

"I just remembered something," Djaq said, throwing three dead rabbits on the ground. Allan forced a grin to his face and glanced down at the dead animals.

"They reminded you," he asked, still grinning. "Djaq really- I don't think I look like dead bunnies." Djaq gave him a quick smile, before continuing.

"It's been a week," she declared, starting to rummage through her pack.

"Yes," Allan said, nodding and not following.

"We have to take your stitches out," she explained. His face must've paled, for she quickly added, "Don't worry- it shouldn't be too bad. Some people think they should stay in longer- but my father always said that if you kept them in too long then the skin starts to heal itself over the stitches, which just makes it that much harder to get them out. And I don't think we have any proper cutting utensils anyway so-"

"Djaq," Allan broke in. "That's fine, really, take 'em out- whatever you think. But could you _please_ stop talking."

Djaq flushed, looking embarrassed and nodded quickly. Soon she signaled for Allan to lay down on his bedroll. Allan gulped and tried not to look terrified. He glanced over at Will, trying to gauge if he had been forgiven.

Unfortunately, the carpenter's face was even more unreadable than before. Allan bit back a sigh- he didn't know what else to do. And yet, if Will didn't forgive him, he would have to think of something.

Trying to move slowly without seeming to, Allan headed over to his makeshift bed, took of his shirt and laid down carefully. He struggled not to flinch when she first lay on hand on his back, and was afraid he didn't succeed when she snatched her hand away as if it had been burned.

"Don't mind me," he said cheerfully, trying to get her to loosen up. "Just get 'em out, kay, Djaq?"

"Right," he heard from above him and he heard her re-gain her confidence. He winced as he felt something pull out of his back, firmly closing his eyes. It was creepy to think that string was coming out of there, and it was getting more painful as she went along. He began to regret getting her into a good mood by joking. This hurt! And on top of it- he still didn't know if Will forgave him or not- the man hadn't said anything. But then again, Allan knew that he couldn't say anything- not in front of Djaq and John.

This continued for a few minutes as Robin and Much returned empty handed from their own hunt. He had been trying to remain silent during the whole process, a part of him shuddering away from remembering how he had screamed when she cleaned them out. But as she pulled out a particularly deeply embedded one, he gasped.

"Sorry," Djaq whispered and he tried to give a jerky nod, not trusting his voice at the moment. He felt the urge to shift his legs, but dared not as he didn't want anyone holding him down like last time.

Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, he flinched away from it at first, but it stayed there, silently comforting him. It was too big to be Djaq's and roughly callused- but then again everyone's was. Must be Robin's, he decided, keeping his eyes closed. He grunted as Djaq pulled out another thread.

"Don't worry- can't be too much longer," the voice to whom the hand belonged said from above him. For a second he didn't believe his ears and then slowly he cracked one eye open in case he somehow got the voice wrong.

He hadn't been wrong. It was Will Scarlett who was currently gently holding his shoulder. Their eyes met and Allan knew he was forgiven. The relief he felt almost scared him- but he pushed that away for now. For now it was enough that Will had forgiven him, that he hadn't lost his closest friend over something dumb, it was enough that Will was there now. The relief must've shown in his eyes, for Will answered with the makings of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Allan nodded and then closed his eyes again- he was forgiven.

A little while later, Djaq pulled out the last piece of string and leaned back. Allan gently pulled himself upright and then even more gently leaned back on the nearest tree.

"How do you feel?" Djaq asked, looking concerned. "It wasn't bad- only 2 started bleeding again- so that's good. But do you feel alright?"

Allan glanced around the camp. Djaq was looking at him intently, waiting for his reaction. There was John who, again, was looking a little on the green side and carefully keeping his gaze away from the small pile of thread that lay next to Djaq. Robin was using a long bit of wood to keep himself standing and he twirled around it gently, looking confident as always. Much was beside Robin, beginning to make dinner and only pausing to hear Allan's answer. And Will was propped up on the tree next to him, whittling once more. Everything seemed to be back to normal.

He grinned. "Yup," he declared, nodding proudly. "I'd say I'm completely healed."

End Injured.

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Well, i hope you all enjoyed the last one (and don't think the ending is too cheesy- I figured I was entitled to a little bit)

anyway, when I finish a fic- I like to ask you (the reviewers) to kinda not only look at this chapter, but really the whole story so I know what to improve on. You know, overall strengths, weaknesses, that kind of thing. I would also love to know what your favorite chapter/moment was and also you're least favorite chapter/moment. (Personally re-reading chapter 1 was physically painful- god bless you for making it past that) Umm... any other commments you want to throw in, please do at this time- because it's your last chance... (and for you people who may be reading and not reviewing- it's you last chance for that too!)

On another note- I am planning to write more RH fics- I'm going to take a break and then a Robin/Much friendship one will be up... eh- start of July- I hope you all pop in to see that one!

Wow, in conclusion, I just want to say I've really enjoyed writing this fic and am so glad you all seemed to enjoy it as well! Ok then, I guess this is it for Injured... it seems weird... ok-well- bye then!

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